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Library Nights

by Peter Inglenook

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1.
Desert Storm 05:16
And suddenly there were a few clandestine heartbeats just south of the horizon, just below the moon. They were barely noticed. Eyeballs popped. Faces fell forward. They, too, remained unseen. Of all the steps they had rehearsed so carefully only the ones performed most slowly were moving. Inwardly. One blink later - a strange new voice. (4) Seconds endlessly endured. Moments made eternal. (2 laut 2 leise 2 laut 2 git) Nobody looked, nobody listened, nobody uttered a sound. When the beat of a drum in the dark began to deepen the dawn, (4) one by one all the colour and the light and the sound began to fill the air with song.(3) They took a deep breath. Inward. And out. It was bound to stay.
2.
It enters me, sweet sticky sirup, not knowing where to go next (as there is nowhere to go and nowhere to breathe and nowhere to thrive) it enters me on wings but without angels. And Eve closes the door without looking back while I fill her rosy lungs with cancers. Oh pestilence oh tempora no llores.
3.
This will end with a lifelong addiction to your prefrontal cortex, vortex of innocence and song, which I suddenly burst into while I was reading Prufrock, and the lines blurred and the letters started jumping off the pages in a right frenzy they did. I had to sit down for a minute to make the world stop spinning. (Needless to say.) - (It didn't.) The pinheads in the cupboard were screaming for their puppy love, each a simile in its own right. Picture perfect. They had pierced Prfrck's vowels like the colourful butterflies they are. Singled out: You, oh! You: Your head, your brain, crushed between my sympathy and my rough cobbler's hands.
4.
This is an easy option for easy days, for lazy people with peculiar ways, for everybody who's keen to learn and for all those people who want to burn. A solution for the million gods that roam the earth and head their nods, for all those who don't want to rise and choose instead to close their eyes. It's a way for those who drown their fears for everyone who cheers or sneers, and for people without master plan who wonder how it all began.
5.
They told me he had sprained his ankle when in fact he had become invisible.
6.
Skin 03:15
Damask, vermilion, jasper. Touch. A million voices: Not enough; rhyme or treason, sympathy breeds reason - do you trust? Me? Touch?
7.
Sometimes we scream. Sometimes we hold our heads and our hearts in front of us like candles waiting to be ignited and infused. Sometimes we stretch our legs and lengthen our strides preparing to jump and run straight into the fire. Sometimes we drink deep from the cup of song and we inhale and we exhale until we are absolutely sure. And then we curl up into neat little packages until our eyes and ears are shut and the steady drip drip drip of the kitchen sink lulls us to sleep.
8.
Stories 03:21
Forty stories up there lies a child spread eagle face down heart wide magnolias in his open eyes Soft little white cushions exit soft little white lips like lies. Forty stories up there hangs a girl her dress softly swinging to and fro silver threads on her minute breasts like snow Sweet vanilla skin emits sweet black poppy seeds like pins. Forty stories up, there sits a boy loose-limbed, facing holes in the wall red butterflies on windows and floors white silken roses grow out of limonite soil like doors.
9.
Inside 02:23
It slowly opens its closed brown eyes. It closes its eyebrows slowly. It openly eyes close brownings. Eyes closely open its brows. Slowly opening its brown eyes it closes. Close to opening its eyes it slows. It closely browns eyed openings. Brown openings close its eyes. Slow eyes close openings brownly. Eyebrows close openings slowly. Slow eyes open closed brows. It brownly eyes open closings.
10.
Fifteen 02:51
I'm all bottled up. All I can do is hold my breath. I want to burst. There is no way. You ask questions? I don't care, I won't play. I won't reply. There's not enough air to stay. I'm all caved in. My skin is a waterfall, oh, this is hell and I am the seventh circle. You want to know? I cannot tell. My tongue is an eel and it writhes and it eats my teeth. I cannot breathe. I'm all shut out. My legs twitch, my eyelids flutter. I'm falling. I'm the bowels of the earth and the rock on a mountain top and I topple down in mid-love. You want to see? Look, look, look. Don't yet leave.
11.
5 March 1871 02:31
This warmth I woke up to and the softness of the air (your hair) and the sudden stillness of your breath. This dusty smell and the room filled with tiny white dots - - dry snowflakes - sweet sleeping pills. This moment. Sweet sleepiness scintillating scent sacred silence. You and a sigh. Two words and I.
12.
Some of them have set their minds on staying, most of them have taken off their hats, everyone who still has lips keeps praying, people leave the sinking ship like rats. Just like Johnny, our dear Johnny, our dearest Johnny Clementine, our dear Johnny, dear old Johnny, our dearest Johnny Clementine. Salty waters flood the rooms they lived in, and the fish make homes for their own kind, tears keep coming, thoughts and memories drifting, masters leave their hearts and souls behind. Just like our Johnny, our dear Johnny, our dearest Johnny Clementine, our dear Johnny, dear old Johnny, our dearest Johnny Clementine. He was one of many once, now lonely Johnny tries to reach the friendly shore, faith keeps pushing, but the waters only pull at him, and Johnny is no more. This was our Johnny, our dear Johnny, our dearest Johnny Clementine, our dear Johnny, dear old Johnny, there's no more Johnny Clementine.
13.
Henry's Song 00:47
never tremble admire or promise eternity
14.
The Truth 04:10
The truth is that the truth lies between two songs, between two pages, after day, before night. It lies right at the bottom of the top, at the middle of the end, half way between black and white, where today ends and tomorrow has not yet started. The truth is that our words, dear, can never hit home the way we hit rock bottom every time we rise and try to get it just right, be it the cake we let burn that evening in May or the lawn we simply refused to mow because we would much rather lie flat on each other's backs. And the grass grew against walls and up into the windows and up to the ceiling where it covered not only the cracks but also the silken spiderwebs I had woven while you were asleep. The truth is that the truth lies. It lies in wait.
15.
Where is it if not in our eyes when we look and look away? Where is it if not in our mouths when we speak and when we [kiss]? Where is it if not in our lungs when we breathe and when we wish? Where is it if not in our hands when we touch and caress? Where is it if not in our minds when we think and think too much? Where is it if not in our hearts when we feel and when we look and when we speak and when we breathe and when we touch and when we don't think enough? And when we love? * And when we love?
16.
On Life 05:47
When acid rains fell to the ground like stars and all the snakes and crocodiles retreated, when men and women met to share their scars as the noble warrior's heart had been defeated, I knew that every time I closed my eyes the world would fold itself back into night and, like an ancient mariner, draw in the ties that held it tightly fettered to the light. That's when we gathered at the sacred spot to say goodbye and kiss and hold our hands, shed one last tear, prepare to cut the knot, and finally lay down on hungry sands. Oh, how the birds lamented us that day that took our lives, that took our worlds away.
17.
On Fruit 01:08
This lemon's a lime, this melon is mine and these apples, they grow on a tree. A pear can be green, a grape isn't a bean and pineapples live by the sea.
18.
Take my hand and lay it on your heart Take my breath and lay it on your ribs Take my knees and lay them on your hips Take my shoulders and lay them on your mind Take my toes and lay them on your spine Take my brows and lay them on your leg Take my arm and lay it on your blood Take my ears and lay them on your teeth Take my lungs and lay them on your feet Take my songs and lay them on your lips Take my eyes and lay them on your skin Take my ankle and lay it on your chin Take my tongue and lay it on your neck Take my cheek and lay it on your back Take my life and lay it in your hands
19.
What might the lark have thought that was used to welcoming lovers to the new day? What might the lark have thought: that one morning on which the sun rose as on any other day on which the wind blew as on any other day on which the rivers kept flowing as on any other day? What might the lark have thought: that one morning when doors were ripped open and ribcages were torn and blood filled the room and tears. What might the lark have thought: that one morning when she heard the screams of thousands of faces and bodies pressed against invisible walls black and blue from need for breath. What might the lark have thought: that one morning when all of a sudden there were neither lovers nor new days?
20.
Siseneg 02:43
And then there was nothing. There was no ship to roam the ocean that was not. There was no epitaph, not even for the undead. There was no more door to open and no more window to look out of and no one to look out of it. There were no lungs to breathe vanished air. There were no feet to tread spotless soil. Because there was nothing. And then darkness subsided and there was a whisper. No one heard it.

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released August 13, 2016

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Peter Inglenook Würzburg, Germany

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