for quite a while I haven’t been able to fantasize anything at god’s ear
there are levels over levels of mouths – echoes, teeth, vapours, saliva –
until I reach it, I risk loosing all my sense of humour
and this way the game wouldn’t be funnier anymore.

in me, caught like in a quickly drunk bottle, bored,
I mime the sex life of immanuel kant hoping to be all right;
my few friends closed their phones – they don’t have mouths to answer anymore,
they’ve thrown all of them in that vulgar chaos from out there.