Eikonos

Sometimes I play the quiet game.. sometimes I play dead.. sometimes I draw old geezers I’ve met and then I pretend I’m them.. sometimes I lay on my back in a September field and listen to the earth hurtling through space.. to victims shrieking at all the evil-deeds wrought upon them.. then I try to sink into the light, soft, fluid grass and become a part of its mystery.. Nature thrives on destruction.. everything starts soft and small, but ends hard.. they hound you till you’re hard as a rock.. sometimes I try to figure out how many fucks are going on at a single moment.. sometimes I think of everything I won’t ever get to fuck.. When I can bear it, I try to look ahead.. but all horizons are equally galling.. sometimes I force animals to fight to the death.. sometimes I think I’m going crazy.. sometimes I play Grandpa-daddy-boy.. sometimes I’m my own imaginary friend.. Most often I play with my plastic soldiers.. When you’ve killed your enemy, there’s only one thing left to do: shoot yourself.. preferably in the spleen.. When I walk home through the tired, brightwhite wildoatfields after having waged a war, I’m numb.. that’s the good thing about life.. most of the time you don’t have to feel it..