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OXYGEN

by Anteater

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1.
214 02:24
Entering her room, number 214 and her story founds its beginning in my head, she’s breathing in her death-bed. Exitus letalis, all I can see is a hematoma-skin. Your whispered words, too weak to form a question, anyway I can’t answer, I only know your name, your date of birth and that is all. I hear you repeating: „Am I dreaming, is this a dream, tell me, am I dreaming or is this real?” And I wish I would only be an imaginary person in your head. Maybe oxycodone will carry away your pain but it won’t numb your heart, it won’t heal your mind. I wanna promise ending nightmares, but I am voiceless. I wanna promise ending nightmares, but I am powerless.
2.
I listened to you when you told me about the place where you’ve grown up, the people you’ve met and the relatives you’ve lost. You wanted to sail away from there but you’ve never seen a sailor. I bet you have seen the compassion in my eyes but I know you’re hating pity, so I didn’t say a word and you went on with telling me things kids should never go through. Why are people born into injustice? Too many chances for some, not even one for others. Whatever happens at home won’t ever stay there, parents leave their mark on you, they leave their mark on you. You’ve heard about their dreams, and I have seen yours and what only came true is the fact to still be alive.
3.
Oxygen 01:49
My heart is just a muscle and you are not my air. Our contractions have the same impulse so where do you draw the line and why? We all breathe the same dust. My heart is just a muscle and you are not the water in my veins. Don’t think I‘m addicted, I’m not standing in the shade. Every left lung is the smaller one, your voice is not louder than mine. We exhale the same dust.
4.
You’re ambling along the Costa del Sol, never been a haunted man. Your private jet got you there. Time was ripe for relaxing some days, some weeks. No need to sorrow about what can fill your stomach next, your mind is coated by the thought what will decorate it next at the saraos that night. It’s so nice to promenade in Spain’s warm sand, it’s so nice to feel the breeze of the sea. They make sure that you swagger on the sunny side, peacefully, the coast almost seems to be like a sibling of your homeland. But when the sun is shining, even you will cast a shadow. When the sun is shining, even you will see the silhouettes. You’re not the guilty one, I don’t blame you for this misery. But watch out, when you avert your face of the shadows, the sun will blend you.
5.
Hope keeps you alive, Hope for a new life. The hazard to be enchained by the waves is worth it when you have the prospect of a time without starvation, without war. There aren’t many miles that separate you from the Costa del Sol, and ain’t its sun also shining on you, and ain’t its sun also shining on you, isn’t its sand the sand of your homeland? So you venture the step, driven by fear, fear and sorrow, driven in the quicksand of the coast, the empire of deportation. But the wind steals your vigor, it drags your boat and the streaming spits its water to drown your patera. The ocean wants to draw its shadows. Costa de la esperanza. Costa de la sombra. An overcast sky, the sunrays are hiding. Should he leave the room? Lasting nightfall. But the haze of the sea is tempting, its salt will hug your skin. So he’s standing right beside the sea, and he looks at the rocky coast, but what he’s seeing is no idyll anymore. Washed up on the Costa del Sol, have you reached the sunny side? You’re dead, he’s starring and he’s realizing that the Costa del Sol now has lost its sun.
6.
Microsleep 02:00
I am writing while I am feeling, this text will be put down tonight. Three last seconds to think, you can choose who you want to remember, or what. And when I calm down it’s like pictures behind my eyes. I lost the zapper, stuck in, continuous loops. What happens when you’re leaving and you left no positive mark? What happens when you’re leaving and nobody sees your footprint because you didn’t leave one? Egoistic phantasms in endless loops. You’ll never know what’s life when you had no feelings of death sometimes.
7.
Leeway 01:32
Where are all these shades of pink and who has tramped down my glasses? When I try to glue the shards together my view is fragmentary and my head is swimming. But it is not myopia’s fault that I see you in a different light, out of focus.
8.
Cocoon 03:24
My unborn grandchild, I rewrite the history that you shall read in forty years. Our utopian dream will hatch out of its cocoon and turn out to be real past, out to be real past. My unborn grandchild, just listen and dream of a place, of place where we don’t elect who decides on our lives, where we have a self-paced life. My unborn grandchild, just listen and dream, just listen and dream of a time in which we create what we need, don’t fill our lives with senseless work and where our rivals let us sleep, where our rivals let us sleep. My dear, just imagine a time in which our minds can fly without being shot, in which our hearts are adrift on the sea without being pulled to the ocean bed.Our unsaid words,they will be spoken. These self-deceitful lines, erase them, write something new, I exactly know, our world comes true. My unborn grandchild, will you ever be born, will the changes I see touch reality? But nevertheless I fight for a place, for a time and a space you’d be born in someday.

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released May 13, 2013

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