Johannes Punkt’s Flaskpost

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Tag: city life


You have a different geography at night; but then so does this city. Day sees you rather put your hand in a blender than shake mine; night sees you one of the dancelanterns held up invisibly above like a swollen starscape, leading me by hand through throngs until we find a newborn alleyway; you cul-de-sac me.

You wear that stunning dress. I am still in my pyjamas. You dress me better with red nailmarks from my thighs to the spot between my shoulderblades. In this part of town, no-one cares about two strangers making love. Our moans are outdinned anyway.

We All Died

A few weeks ago, every citizen died. Lungs caved in, brains spilled out. Office hours remained unchanged. Stiff corpses kept moving through crowded streets, dry mouths kept talking in raspy voices. Their rotten bodies are making the city putrid; the aftershaves and perfumes have long since become ineffective, now simply an overtone of bergamot and pine. Muscles are starting to fall off, eyes are melting from faces. I’m staying in my bed, not daring to breathe but with a gas mask on my face, hoping that the electricity inside my cracked skull will go away if I keep completely still.