Dried Ink Stain

Het is tijd om iets aan te snijden.

Een nieuw begin: de gulden snede.

Zet het mes erin want er moet gesneden worden.

 Weg de kanker, weg de tumor.

 Ontvel jezelf. Ontdoe jezelf van je zwoerd.

Ik beloofde je iemand aardig

voor wanneer jij die nodig had.

 Zwart op wit zei ik het jou

dat er iemand was om op te bouwen.

 Handen werden geschud

zodat jij het zeker wist.

 Maar op mijn rug:

In between the waxing/crescent and the waning/gibbous

moon

is an endless darkness in which we will get lost

 Somewhere on the line between lie and truth,

who knows how far from the middle?,

lies my opinion

 To be captured by the lights of minds,

so imposing and authoritative,

that skin my sayings and dissect them

 Used in their advantage,

abused to make them look better,

I’m off worse

 Then, when the flood comes again

and flushes me away

I am reminded

 In the waiting and the pending,

when the tides are still at sleep

and I wish these words

would envelop me

like the thoughts do where they

sprouted from

 to build a house – no home –

with every letter present

 curl up in the coldest corner

and wrap myself in letter-shaped

I’ve grown so tired of this faith

I want to stop it

 Let’s dig deeper holes

Leave for darker places

 Please divert

Pray for disaster

 Move away from here

Loneliness hides in open places

It sits there and waits

 For you to pass by

And keep it company

 Endless patience its biggest property

As is yours