I have a natural talent

for being cruel to close ones,

while weeping for distant strangers

I keep on behaving like a young man

(bike, ski, start literate projects)

though my years amass

like a jam of logs;

dismiss pain in stubborn physiotherapies

and fantasize about glorious fornication

in daily raging masturbation,

while writing off old friends

for minor disfunctions,

making no concessions

to half-assed dilettant tries at poetry

in international poetry groups on the web,

no matter how honest

I don't give anyone any credit

for 1000 good deeds

if making one fucking mistake,

while realizing that a good crime

far outweighs

a 1000 years of honesty

I mourned my cat Izzi

much more

than my father Helge

I love my cat Gunwald way deeper

than ever my son or my daughter

I look myself in the eye and smile!

Useless folks

must be acknowledged as such

for the air to be breathable