Ctrl+Z. Ctrl+Me.

"Just living is not enough", said the butterfly, "one must have sunshine, freedom, and a little flower."
— Hans Christian Andersen.

Now I'm living in a dream.

You aren't falling apart. You're well beyond that. You're just rattling along now. Elven dolls doing what little you can to gather the pieces as they fall away. But you don't know how to properly reattach them — a doll does not repair itself. So you hug those brittle fragments to your chest until you simply cannot hug anymore. Until you've had to leave so many behind that you no longer remember what it is you're missing.

— Darrell Drake, Where Madness Roosts.


Sprich mit mir


It was all that she could dream about at one point in time.
Paradise island, it was described to be.
A place that she figured she could fit in
If she chose to leave her hometown behind.

This paradise island held many inviting things.
The weather, the food, the people, the life —
Everything that she could ever imagine
Became everything that broke her.

There she sat by the patio
Sipping on ginger tea
Looking into the horizon
Thinking about paradise island.

All she had to do was to move somewhere else.
Somewhere else away from paradise island
As far as she could disappear to.
But that didn't happen.

Or maybe that couldn't happen.
Because she couldn't let it happen.
Because still thinking about paradise island
She couldn't let it go.

The nightmares, the flashbacks, the memories.
The moments she couldn't let go.
That one word that she just had to use.
The trauma.

Finishing the pot of tea unknowingly
She began to brew a second pot.
The steam made her eyes tear
And she began to sip the freshly brewed regression.

Crouching into an uncomfortable position
She began to stretch and reach for her toes
Which she was not able to accomplish for years
And yet she still couldn't do it.

Flipping out a finger
She touched the tip of her toe.
It was much better now.
There was no easy way out.

Thinking about the stranger
She should have forgotten all about.
She could not bring herself to ever forget
How real it all ever was.

Shaken by the sound of the broken pot
She shook herself awake.
Back to finish what she had started
Cleaning up the mess she made.

There was no such thing as paradise island
She convinced herself.
There is no such thing as a paradise.
No such thing existed.

Call it denial.
Call it pain.
Call it delusion.
Call it anything at all.

The pain was real
Except it was easier denying its existence.
The delusion of starting afresh
Kept generating in everybody's mind.

She would not be changed
But she would try not to remember
What broke her.
Who broke her.

Maybe it was not about how one single entity
One paradise island
Made a life-changing event
Etched in her head.

Maybe it was about how one single trauma
One paradise island
Motivated her to move forward
Away from all the sadness.

It was easier said than done.
Back at square one
She sat at home
Thinking of what could have been.

Who it could have been
To save her from this mess
Using a fishing rod
To pull her out of the drowning.

Who it could have been
To be her hero
Making her believe
That everything could come to an end.

What it could have been
No longer mattered
For it was now all about
The closing.

A closure.
All she wanted was an ending.
All she could think of was the end
When all she needed was closure.


von Herzen.



And I don't think I'm ever going to wake up.

I've been working on my timing
Insecurity beside me
But you tasted so inviting
Should have tried to get to know you.


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