It was many times but it was always at the Hallesches Tor station. So close to Nollendorf Paltz, so close that it wounds. That Hallesches station, like many on the U1 line, is elevated above the ground floor. It appears to me like a metallic box stabbed from side to side with a bundle of giant iron needles, the train rails, not going anywhere perhaps, perhaps just creating the station metallic box suspended in the air and that moment for me to be. I would enter the train with clothes, already listening to the tune, and undress as I felt the warmth inside. The train would move slowly, me and my test negative on my hand my virgin skin. The train would enter the dark traversed with further railroads, huge rigid wires all directed to nowhere but necessarily pointed upwards. The train and the rail and the wheels all would collapse in front of me naked amid the people in the metro, amid the noise in my head and the silence outside. It would all rise and I would extend my hands to either side off my trunk -- release me -- I would cry -- RELEASE ME -- and rise as well, the car a mad winged horse I rode -- RELEASE MEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Friday, October 24, 2014
Release
Most of times it was a sunny morning after it had snowed the whole night. I was still living in Berlin. It was, I say, after a snowy dawn; but it was many times and I cannot tell for sure. It was after I had tested HIV negative. I would see the trace left by my steps on the virgin white and I would think how little it takes to rape it apart anew -- my holes wide open. Then I would think that at dusk a new snow would cover me up again like a thick, warm blanket; not so thick, not so warm -- so dull and white though.
It was many times but it was always at the Hallesches Tor station. So close to Nollendorf Paltz, so close that it wounds. That Hallesches station, like many on the U1 line, is elevated above the ground floor. It appears to me like a metallic box stabbed from side to side with a bundle of giant iron needles, the train rails, not going anywhere perhaps, perhaps just creating the station metallic box suspended in the air and that moment for me to be. I would enter the train with clothes, already listening to the tune, and undress as I felt the warmth inside. The train would move slowly, me and my test negative on my hand my virgin skin. The train would enter the dark traversed with further railroads, huge rigid wires all directed to nowhere but necessarily pointed upwards. The train and the rail and the wheels all would collapse in front of me naked amid the people in the metro, amid the noise in my head and the silence outside. It would all rise and I would extend my hands to either side off my trunk -- release me -- I would cry -- RELEASE ME -- and rise as well, the car a mad winged horse I rode -- RELEASE MEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
It was many times but it was always at the Hallesches Tor station. So close to Nollendorf Paltz, so close that it wounds. That Hallesches station, like many on the U1 line, is elevated above the ground floor. It appears to me like a metallic box stabbed from side to side with a bundle of giant iron needles, the train rails, not going anywhere perhaps, perhaps just creating the station metallic box suspended in the air and that moment for me to be. I would enter the train with clothes, already listening to the tune, and undress as I felt the warmth inside. The train would move slowly, me and my test negative on my hand my virgin skin. The train would enter the dark traversed with further railroads, huge rigid wires all directed to nowhere but necessarily pointed upwards. The train and the rail and the wheels all would collapse in front of me naked amid the people in the metro, amid the noise in my head and the silence outside. It would all rise and I would extend my hands to either side off my trunk -- release me -- I would cry -- RELEASE ME -- and rise as well, the car a mad winged horse I rode -- RELEASE MEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
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