Scarlet Rouge

Triptych of Arbitrariness


fair enough, you say, fair enough, who is fair enough, i ask, i ask myself, who’s my self i ask, fair enough you say, may i ask, you ask, always, on all ways, but some are dead ends, i say, fair enough you say, what is enough, i ask, are you schizo, you ask, schizophrenic i ask, fair enough, you say, yay, and i don’t ask further, well, maybe, i say, i am a maybe, i say, i may be every x, i say, is x a letter, i ask, a is a letter, i say, fair enough is nothing, never, but sometimes i know when never is, i think, and say nothing no more, no less, fair enough a says, when x remains silent.


beautifiction. which purpose do these boards serve if buses come whenever the eternal plans of GOD determine, but inaccessible when?, cause it’s so interesting to freeze with nothing but cigarettes in your pockets? – some still wonder (while bags tiptoe across the imagination of dirty pavements), I definitely should take some ugly pictures, just for the absence of fun, since bakeries are closed down it’s even too cold for my pencil to write, or does he has other reasons not to do what he is ought to, like us, i mean my pencil? (who gave me the right to state, it – he – is mine?) … bins next to beauty shops show dentists their rotten teeth, but mine are still in, still in, still in is a mouth full of nicotine, breath me your cancer; – if life wants to be honest, we get, it’s decay.


What would we do without having no taste?, 8 equals the weight of infinity, psychoanalysis as the last step of rationalization, and release is only the more sophisticated trap, we entertain ourselves with our depressions, take your shower of shame, and rethink your thoughtlessness, since there is no doubt: every falling is floating, fallen, Falle, Fall, that is the clue of freedom, you are no more convinced of anything, but you can convince everybody of everything, or: flow of unconsciousness, i am pissed that it was god himself who pissed on me, pointlessness remains the sense of my life.

Scarlet Rouge

Pointless & Wasted

This world is a wasted land: you look round, and, of course: only circles. This world is a circus (with clowns and suffering animals): you look in the manege, and, of course: surrounded – surrounded by empty chairs. This world is empty (& too full with pain): you look beneath, and there is nothing (but claws). All the branches are crawling, don’t you hear? But can crows be depressed? (For how long?) An apple a day is disgusting. Not much more than an apple a year. (How do months become years?) Apples are problems. Kernels taste bitter. Who wants to unwrap the fruit? (Underneath the peel, most of the vitamins sleep (unjust).) Which language does an ordinary apple speak? Die Sprache der Unlust. Some lights seem reflected. Which stop is mine? Do I want to get out? Whose smoke comes out of the chimney? Who burns himself? (Have we again been help?) We are pets for each other. WARUM so kleinherzig? What does this mean: “I can’t”; “I’m exhausted”; “I’m nearly gone”? Questions remain the most annoying answers. Auseinandergeflimmert: my nerves; – and now? How do you pronounce SCREAM? What is too quiet? “Well”, to bury yourself is not the best escape. (It is?) There is no exile: ask the brain; ask the branch; – ask round in circles, ask apples, ask chairs in wor(l)ds, ask: ask pointless & wasted.

Scarlet Rouge

Palmhalm Alter/ some hands are handsome


Mein Alter:
in meinen
and inside
my palm:

aus Schluchten,
von Fäusten:

… will der
für sich sein?

He wants
to escape:
er faltet
mein Dasein.

Dort, beim
meiner Finger.

Some hands are handsome

My age in
my eyes
und in
meiner Hand:


… wants this
be alone?

Er will
he’s bending
my being.

There, where
they are,
my fingers’