my orange wall
is turning into a
mosquito graveyard

Asuguo

this house
is surrounded
by shadows

Asuguo

open windows made
impossible by constant deafening
machine noise

Asuguo

am ende,
ist der tag der stelze
endlich gekommen

Asuguo

words fail to
deliver messages
at increasing intervals

Asuguo

with age my tolerance
for buzzing animals
declines rapidly

Asuguo

my legs still itch;
as if i were still standing
between stinging nettles

Asuguo

my feet are
a symphony of
different colored mud

Asuguo

der wind
bläst mich
fast vom rad

Asuguo

turning right and
surviving starts with
the same manoeuver

Asuguo