missionstatement of the walls

fly’s open peeks through a chink inside a bedroom is unfolded a tower
rooftree a forest history in annual rings we revolve around doubt
it makes you strong a stone in a pond the work of a god under a dense foliage
we have all winter to be naked when it freezes and it frosts it is too quiet
to be ashamed.

traces of a blessing fan out waste water sewers lay low lovers musty shags
in a caravan in a log cabin a perspiring ski instructor little backroom or broom closet lawyer
with a preference for anal and all the way little sweetsweatsorrows
a trail of virgin salt crystals a sea of beauty long gone
has it’s price the humming of the scratches, it completely livens you up

desert rose, brittle you prance and glance you’re invulnerable may any one by accident
crush you you’ll slip through fingers like sand, you’ll lead astray oh hold me leave me let me
join you inflect you mortarmartyr me with all your feet standing ground refusing to lie down
keeping you up right dividing the earth in balance keeping things in the dark staring looking up to the sky
sticking heads in the sand you don’t want to see what’s on the other side

there’s green grass growing, ivy

is slowly squeezing your spine to smithereens

(god is challenging your response at all times)

written for the "Jacob of Maerlant is looking for Ghostwriters"-project. (in Dutch)