Sleep

I can't take sleep seriously.
There is too much innocence during,
All the madness of the day disappears,
And I have to face the morning without agitation,
Start the day with a blank page,
Without chewing over past turmoil
Or analyses that have to be made.

Honestly,
There must be something they are not telling me,
Like the nightmare at the bus stop,
The lying awake all night,
Where is the missing pillow, the hard mattress
That compensates for the soft meadows and the flying like a bird.
Pink clouds are dangerous.
And I insist,
I insist vigorously
That you introduce me to
Real sleep.
The one that teaches me the day.

I don't believe you anymore if you say that
You dreamt about
The lilies in the valley,
I caught the black glimpse in your eye
That told me all the rest,
That what was never talked about.

Last night there was a tinkling in the room,
A silent jingle near the bedroom floor,
'All waiting should stop one day', it said,
'And sleeping has to be done with your eyes open'.
'Yes', I spoke out loud to the darkness, 'You are right.
I shouldn't wait for no-one,
To see,
To wrestle until the morning,
And carry my blanket to a dangerous place,
In order to sleep there where ebb and flow can overflow me'.

Bodemloos

Alles is veranderd de dag dat ik leerde met de honger om te gaan.

Wegkrijgen kon ik hem niet. Hij was er altijd, zelfs als ik net gegeten had.
Soms, afhankelijk van het maal, was ik wel eens vijf minuten verlost.
En na uitzonderlijke delicatessen, kreeg ik een half uur.
Dan heb ik het over: de beste vis, kraakvers en op zilte manier bereid. Groenten, kleurrijk als de ochtendzon, naar zichzelf smakend. Kruiden met de smaak van de wereld in zich.

Ooit, één keer, kreeg ik een hele dag. Ik telde de vissen in de vijver aan de overkant, en keek naar de scheuren in het plafond.

Op het einde van de dag ging de zon onverbiddellijk onder. Tevergeefs zette ik er mjn schouders onder om zo het dalen tegen te gaan.

De honger kwam terug samen met het eerste licht. Ik zag het snijden, wassen, mengen, mixen, roeren, bakken, sudderen en schikken weer voor me.

Escape

Finally you have made it. You are sitting on that cosy terrace, alone, coffee in front of you, a newspaper. Exactly what you have dreamt of all these weeks, when jumping around between buzzing phones, demanding customers, friends' kids and mandatory gatherings. You devaluated yourself to the background, riding the train you yourself bought a ticket for in the first place. But now you are here and you need to concentrate. You say the word out loud to yourself: con-cen-trate. No time for the newspaper. Only a few hours to re-think, to move your life around and leave the café with a plan in your hands. You want time for yourself, to Live Your Life Fully and Without Compromises. Front cover guru magazine style. You wonder how you ended up like this.
First you start by cancelling all upcoming appointments. Disappointing other people will become a daily routine. You need a wide white open space- that will have to filled up again, fine-tuned to your own needs.
You know beforehand time won't be enough to do everything you have never done. You delete reading books, you plan a cleaning lady, you order take-out. You only do the most efficient sports.

You are working consistently and speedily on your life.
Suddenly you notice you are not enjoying your coffee. You are stressed. You refuse the vegan extravagant apple cake - too many calories, distraction from the list.

You have 45 minutes left to sit, to finish up, to come up with something. After that you have to dive back into the race.
Then you notice something. You are doing it again. A-gain. A big sigh. Disbelief. But time is not up. You reach over, grab the paper, wail the waiter for a giant chocolate fudge and spend your 45 minutes.

picture from http://pascalcampion.blogspot.com