MyGen
Profile Generator
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hi. i look down at my hands, and the skin there has gone all raw, like that of a very old man. if somebody would like to know me, he'd rather talk to my hands than to my face. but i like eyes. i cut yours out of paper one night when i was unable to sleep and put them on my wall. they are still here, watching me as i dream, gazing upon my peacefully resting face. this is the time when things come to me, suddenly sweep up to my consciousness, out of nowhere. i cage them and write them down, shooting photographs - click click click - until there is no more room available between them, no empty spaces. i did not like the hole your missing eye left in the paper, so i burned it. torching things always gave me pleasure, seeing how things are consumed by hot flames. there is a mark on my left arm that i do hide from people, friends, family, that those flames gave me one day. it's got the shape of an 8. i like my love to kiss me there, same goes for that spot on my neck, where somebody left a squid under my skin before i was born, long time ago. the squid lives inside of my body and changes the way i look and the way i think and the way i speak and the way i write, its arms still looking for food inside of my veins, but its body already dead, nothing there but the ghost, the idea of something like that. the ghost is afraid of loud noises, what is the reason for me to turn them up so loud, the best thing to make it go away is the sound of a guitar uttering gibberish in universal pain. irony that this dispels my pain in return. probably this is why i put your eye on my wall, although it soon might belong into my wallet or my basement. is that a nice place for you to stay? yes? my basement? yes? do you like that? yes? my basment? yes? under the ground? yes? my basement? yes? under the earth? yes? where the small things live? yes? where the raindrops go after their trip all across the nightsky? no? i fear for you, we creep together now, you and i. when i was a little boy, we found a little baby bird on our balcony one day. i called him "chiep", because that was the sound he made all the time. "chiep chiep chiep". he did not have any feathers, so we fed him. when i woke up one morning, he was gone, laying on his back, leaving behind only flat skin on the ground of his cage. i did not understand then, and i surely do not now, probably this is the reason why i am making up all those stories about people living under a night sky, or under a steel sky or under a rotten sky or way below the floor. there is a place i go to in my sleep, that is across the street of the apartment i used to live in as a child. there was this fence, a round, steel fence, nobody could reach through, but possibly climb over if that person was big and brave enough, and there is a hole in the ground behind it, reaching approx. 2 meters down below the street. i often go down there in my restless dreams, climbing over that fence and jumping down into that hole, and go on a wandering trip, but every time i go down there, i wake up again, the only thing i find looking across my room in panic is your eye, that i cut out of paper and put up on my wall, gazing upon me, looking at me. it never blinks. it never looks away. always open.
SPECIAL POWERS: - smearing fake blood into enemy faces!!
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Darauf mein Wort
denn es ist mehr als bloß ein Klang,
den irgendein Depp sonst sang wie ein Geräusch,
das nur sich selbst nennt.
Und ich wär lieber bei Dir
langsam fang ich an mich zu vergessen
und Mathias Reim weiß wer ich bin
Dein Kissen umarmt Dich und ich schau Dir zu
was Du im Traum wohl erlebst,
und ob du über oder unter der grünen Wolke schwebst?
Nur so kann ich Dich berührn
schreib über Dein Haar
laß Sturm und Nacht sich nur gegen Dich verschwörn
ich bin da
wieder mal zu lange, weil jetzt wachst Du auf
vertreibst Deinen Schlaf aus den Augen
Wie Dich wonach fragen, wenn ich nicht mal weiß,
wie Herzschlag im Magen in Wirklichkeit heißt?
Und wenn ich..s wüßte, könntest Du immer noch sagen,
daß Dir das total nicht paßt
