Verlangen

It's just the future. We can't hear it here. A midnight rain, detected by our moon-white arms. Slow dances around a secret pole, a dangerous dip in a sea. That's all it is. It's less than seven. My playlists, haunted by the aromas of Hoogvliet. Stars to guide the airplane. Gliding over the jet-black facilities, night's postcard curling at the edges. Soporific navigation charts, a radio's tuned to easy. Headphones stolen from another airline, useless here. Charity. It's just the future. Nothing happens now. Desire hasn't even been invented.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Abendland reviewed online etc ...

Day One Rabbit