1 nurse alma reads a personal letter addressed to elisabet vogler


our unplanned therapy
i will try to introduce myself
to uncover my persona
but i have some of them
my life consists of choosing
a story for the right moment
you
who read this text
might be me
you are acting instead of me
it is confusing
should i continue
soon i will give a picture
to the woman next to you
she thinks
it is all about her
i am somewhere
hidden in the air
that is what interests me
if i am in the air
then i breathe myself in at any time
better by accident
of course
the bed in which i sleep gets my features
would you like to see a photograph
it is our storyteller
i want you to hear one quotation
question your teaspoons
you agree
i am not sure

2 words failed


i know i am at home
looking through the window
sight is melted
so i sit
i leave myself sitting and go
there is a picture of me in the wardrobe
count
now we are three
telephone rings
the one from the 80s
i do not have it
there is no dust
someone is clicking one’s fingers
and the clock started ticking
i am not at home
i am a landscape

3 you were a pit


you were a pit
a grave
you are a layer
you are time

4 turbulence


turbulence
does
the
memory
move
it
reduces
itself
until
becomes
a
little
stone
drink
it
with
a
glass
of
water
memory
draws
an
outline
a
crime
scene
there
is
no
content
inside
and
never
was
lines
show
the
area
unperceivable
land

5 terra incognita


terra incognita
52.346573
4.8485929

6 young woman’s voice filled the room


it is fiction after all
my mind is a space
there are windows and unknown lands
i am rerouting myself
i am sylvia with eyes closed
she might be lost in the roads on my face
i drink wine for her
stones in a belly
sleepers like snails
there was a drawing with plath’s name on it
she tried to be a poet in the shower
the name was written in red
under the water, it disappeared
she was also a painter
painter with three days passion
it is remnants what you see
memories that are not fixed
she remembers the moment under the bridge
it was raining differently on both sides
where the water was still there was a birth
i am sylvia with eyes closed
with eyes blind to the daylight
with moving howl now stucked

7 wet to the bones they create the sea


there is a boy standing in dunes
the stone is bound to his leg
the sea from me is separated with an artificial river
i am shivering
imagine
feathers
on
my
face
now
imagine
feathers
on
your
own
face
they
are
wet
and
heavy