I have a natural talent
for being cruel to close ones,
while weeping for distant strangers

I keep on behaving like a young man
(bike, ski, start literate projects)
though my years amass
like a jam of logs;
dismiss pain in stubborn physiotherapies
and fantasize about glorious fornication
in daily raging masturbation,
while writing off old friends
for minor disfunctions,
making no concessions
to half-assed dilettant tries at poetry
in international poetry groups on the web,
no matter how honest

I don't give anyone any credit
for 1000 good deeds
if making one fucking mistake,
while realizing that a good crime
far outweighs
a 1000 years of honesty

I mourned my cat Izzi
much more
than my father Helge

I love my cat Gunwald way deeper
than ever my son or my daughter

I look myself in the eye and smile!

Useless folks
must be acknowledged as such
for the air to be breathable