#70 (withered love notes)

he had created a nest

out of books

and old dishes

built a cocoon

from theories and figures

feverishly scribbling down

other people’s ideas

searching for oases of joy

in the desert

of academic seclusion


his lover

came knocking

peeking over

the paper walls

writing love notes

and pinning them

to the barriers

of this self-chosen prison

just to see them wither

like the last flowers of fall


he  writes for his life

writes for his freedom to

escape the solitude

of syllables


and typing

hacking at theories

like a mad woodpecker

picks at bark beetles

seven days

to tear down the walls

and drink the real world


For F. – I love you with all I have!

*28th November 2016

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