Ich will sitzen und aufhören zu denken.
I want my brain to shut down, to shut off, to lose all power, for one hour.

Eine Stunde.
Mehr verlange ich gar nicht.

Eine Stunde von Gar nichts,
Eine Stunde Musik,
of fingertips on keys,
of whispers of skin on cold notes,
of nothing, and nothing, and nothing.

one hour.


Eine Stunde, in der Gewohnheit und Instinkt sagen: ‘No, let me. Let me take over, let me take the place of your brain and your mind for a moment; let me. Let me show you the world is a simple place, even if only for this hour. let me.’

One hour where I can rest assured that my teeth will not worry my bottom lip the way that they do when I think too much, too often, too hard, too seriously. one hour where it goes without question that my fingers will stop their constant drumming, the constant movement they keep up without ever breaking rhythm when I’m nervous, when I’m scared, when I’m worried. One hour where the sighs from my lips are more so those of relief versus those of anxiety, where my muscles fight for only seconds before giving in and relaxing into something that can almost be identified as a comfort, where I fall into something so alien, so strange, so foreign that I can’t resist it due to the lazy curiosity that is allowed - for this one hour - to have control.

barely breathing,
they will all leave me.

These thoughts of you, thoughts of me, thoughts of us, of ours, of everything. Thoughts of conversations long past and never to be had again, thoughts of words once shared and never to be spoken from this day forward. These memories of me, memories of you, memories of us, of ours, of everything. Memories of the nothing moments, memories of the suspended moments - memories of it all.
Of me, of you, of him, of you, of him, of me, of you.

I want to shut down,
for one hour.

Just an hour.


please, god.
one hour.

I want to play piano.

You can haunt me as you please as my fingers hurt these keys,
but god....







..give me my one hour.