In deinem Alaska

In deinem Alaska,
So weit, so we und leer.

Dein eigenes, kleines Alaska,
So kalt, so verlassen und leer.

You are standing there, in your own endless white. And now exactly there, where you lie.

In your Alaska,
So far, so white and empty.

Your own, little Alaska,
So cold, so lonely and empty.

The world between wanton look, and the sound of the downfall of your shaking lips among "everything will fall into place" and "I have the guts", it says "please, come back" in the color of blood. Despite the feeling, that an end nears. It beats bravely, your strenuous heart. Moving-mountings became a sea of complexions. Starting with hiding, a competition of hurting. In front of the last swept shard in the house.
You want to listen, but butterflies die so loudly, it’s without a lighthouse alone in a sea. Lost bravery signal, roaming in the air between us.

Every tear, every question, that stayed.
Next to me, exactly there, where you lie.

Tag ein, Tag aus
Day in, day out

And now exactly there, where you flee from your own little Alaska. So far, so white and empty. The world full of stony look, and icy wind, which already choke off our breathing.

Among becoming and waiting and guessing distances, the lie of freedom stays, maybe a dying at rates. The dance of sonar and pulse, when it beats and draws a heart in the trace of snow. Now when you go, smiling and whispering became a nerving mumbling.  And why? If it’s right, how the earth moves, always the same stars are seen in the air between us.

Jede Träne, jeder Frage, die bliebt.
Neben mir, genau da wo du liegst.

Every tear, every question, that stays.
Next to me, exactly there, where you lie.

clientsfromhell:

Client: I threw out that black pen, it was out of ink.

Me: What black pen?

Client: The one that was lying on your tablet.

Me: You threw out my $150 Wacom pen?

Client: I tried writing with it and it didn’t work. It must’ve been out of ink.