For months I’ve been listening to what resounds in me. Slamming doors and fucking neighbors are also mine from now on. I’ve deteriorated into the worst kind of music theatre. I only hear myself in a way I didn’t know I existed as: a micro polyphonic cluster. I don’t want to be anything else.

Singing free all those likeminded voices until I am nothing more than sound.

TEXT

An adaptation of ‘Leugenbeeld’, a collection of Poems by Jan Nieuwenhuis

Do I see those same blue eyes,
The same face, deceived
By the sight of another –

– I –
– see a complete myself

At distance in the mirror
A clearly defined hushed lie.
Am I who I am
When I smell my own smell
You, your perfume
For months I have not
Smelled it
Fills me silently
With memories.

We are both here.
Overcooked to a pulp.
A residue of mingled tastes
In a cracked soil
From which I exhaust myself,
Find myself,
And oppress myself.

How you touch me where I don’t know myself
Your fingers push
How outside becomes inside
How we become not one or two
How my body merges, disappears,

Feeling nothing/Stop Feeling.