Fragments

***

She doesn't want to go to work
but she doesn't want to stay in bed
cause it's changed from something comfortable
to something else instead
-Pulp-

***

I can't write anymore; as I write this I feel absent. I can't find myself in the paper. Nor the words nor the ink with which their written can fill the pages of this notebook. His absence, my absence. We both have been devoured by a black hole. I'm lost, I'm stocked. I need to get out from this hole. from this pit without bottom. I held myself with nails and teeth to its damp wall but I don't have the strenght to climb.
(Maybe escpaping its not the solution, still Germany will be my refugee.)
There are ghost that float through the faculty's corridors. Roses, one tulip. I fear ghosts, I drown in memories, they're like a pocket-knife that opens wounds on my heart. Sweet memories open my skin.

***

I'm not here.

***

I shouldn't moist with tears the soil in which my feet are buried, it just get hader and harder. And more and more imposible it is to move along, to continue my way. I must continue though my heart is broken.
What I need is sweet water to loosen this combination of blood, tears and soil. Sweet water to wash my feet and wounds. Sweet water to replace the salty seas and to refresh the deserts.

***

Remembering that I once learned english too.