the demon of her love
is starting to eat me from inside
only to be silenced
by her slaughtering kindness


x

in vruchtwater te zwemmen
is alles wat ze wou

nightblindness/ lovers unknown

birds of coloured light
hear their song in a silent seed
the sitar turns a thousand leaves
into a silvercloack of sound
see the candle burn
inside an invisible bell
reverbe the hymns in flames
a hummingbird of trembling black
turns baroque lips into gothique
the kiss of the tattoed dream
no light as she screams
no wound just a wing
rubbing in dark satine


(written this morning in Nieuw Gent(miljoenenkwartier))

slow punk.
it exists .

Decided to post more movies . Here's a Moskwood classic from 1967 ... it's very fairytalish :-)

i touch no one
and
no one touches me