Getting Used To it.

 Trying to smoke a cigarette
and drinking Weissell,
while the life is being destroyed,
demolished like the highest tower.
Shouldnt follow so blindly
these poems that lead me to
new life-styles of torture
and poverty
with the sacred golden hope
for a room in Abyss.
I smile.
Time to search for my old self in the debris.
The sun is about to come out,
and my world dances Ecstacy dance.

INLOVE.

You sleep with it
and you wake up with it
and thats pain.
It chews your bones
and it makes you puke
half a douzen times a day.
You eat and drink just
to survive
and you can seperate dreams from reality.
A sinking Logic
warns you that it will end
with a nightmare,
and your thoughts are drawn in a painting of hers
and thats pain.
At night you
get saduced by her parfume
and her dark whispers,
and your muscles
give up at plessure.
You are a virgin every night,
and she loves you every night
and thats agony.