The eye-catcher

  
Your existence itself is already a pathetic fat, splinter-nakedness. You have opened your shy, sneaky eyes countless times over horizons - you knew: you set out on a wandering untrodden wanderings with unwanted intentions, your doubts and fears that you could not find a companion, no matter how you tried and wanted to.

You yourself are a voiceless star down here. You would tremble and tearfully curse, if you could, the widening void of the Universe and the infinite, for you have fled through your whole wretched life as a deceived exile. Thou wouldst open thy frayed tongue wide, And pour it like a destructive torrent upon the evil host Of dog-dogs and dog-roarers.

Like a diligent fool, thou hold'st the rings of thy soul in thy closed palm, To show them once chosen to another, perhaps for ever. The earthy form of your dithering, defenceless being, belly-lovable, could not be enough for the modern woman-corpses to map you in full reality. You were the embodiment of so many childish, mischievous secrets.

You said to yourself aloud countless times, "You would have been content with the unique, beating rhythm of the heart. In the midst of Existence, they are also deviously pulling and tugging at the moving groove for you.

Your being in the perpetual volcanic eruptions of stress immediately cries and begs for peace and tranquillity. Alas, what will become of you when you need pills, murderous knives, or even anaesthetic eye sockets for your sure calm? - It's not only out there that the evening is clenching its teeth and it's getting dark.

Your life is wasting away, and you feel more and more that you're out of this modern age and no one remembers you. You've been here as an eyesore, and maybe you will be when everyone has left you!