I have a room
nothing is my own
I control the books, CDs
and what I consume
I try to make it smaller
but it’s the same

gradually the world enters
(every time I think of you it rains)
like water seeping in,
a green ocean
sweeping me away
I see its currents,
streamers in a wind-tunnel,
and feel nothing
today it’s the same

I have a room
useless as the rain,
from it nothing new comes,
sheltered from a feeling,
every current is the same

I control the sounds,
command the knowledge,
my intake of alcohol and food,
I control what reaches me,
if I laugh, if I pity
it’s to see the contours
of these streamers (all alike,
like screams,
alive with the same motion
and emotion), it’s all the same

gradually the world enters
and its new turbulence
is nothing new (it
always rains …)
the green ocean,
rising above the level of the windows,
if it doesn’t take me
as if dust could save me
I’ll stay the same

I have a room
I try to make it lighter
so finally the currents come
and carry me away
but it’s my shape I see more clearly,
dust falling in the contours of my shadow,
alive like streamers,
smoke in the tunnel,
alive in all the light I’ve made

I’m stream-lined, smooth,
I am the same