Rilke drags me through cold night

Rilke grabs me by the ridge
and starts dragging through cold night
my old cart mind squeaks and cracks
and eyes row slowly through a German, what's the word

when you have water full of tiny stones and gems,
a hard sharp colourful crunch-clatter-brine

this kind of styx
I've put down the window blinds
I've covered my head with a blanket
as Rilke drags me through scrapyard of gold
lichterheilig, Herrlichkeit, goldumsäumt,
where are you dragging me Rilke?
Your angels were turned into gutted corpses
seen their skins trending on instagram
Nobody handles this amount of Traumgebilde
these days we walk on slaughtered souls
I will have to lie and lie again to cover lies
not to be caught in possession of your words
Where are you dragging me Rilke?
you've got the wrong guy
I can't dream to be a human with a real god
You gamble with my life Rilke
But Rilke drags me, drags me through the cold night


till finally morning sun flips its eye
and Rilke throws me to its jaws
it falls and hits through concrete wall, through blinds
rays through my eyestones
as if they are nothing and can't make no shadow
and then my mind overexposed dims
into light crust and warm to touch
gets brittle somewhere
between thin black paper-glass and
dried up mud-dust
and blood crawls from my heart
into this hollow charcoal shell
and starts whispering
there there
there we meet like veins in a heart
like branches in a trunk
like piss in a gutter
there we stand - salty foam beads on mountains of sweat

the sun have risen through us
and now
not to get caught in daydreaming
We throw ourselves into sleep