This man is a horizontal animal…this man lives beside me.
He doesn’t drink, he doesn’t go to late night liquor stores, he doesn’t count cars for fun,
he doesn’t fuck women and forget about them.
The righteous knight.
But you just need to have a mammoth fear to release all the up tightness from your guts…
He opened, he wanted to be seen…
I took him to the near pub,
all the ladies…the booze…the fights…the disintegrations of poorly death…
all these things kept coming to him
and he just sat there drinking, hiding from the active faces.
I asked him about his fear,
he was too frightened to even tell that…
All the fights were good…all the fights have always been good.
He never spoke…not a word…just came back and locked himself in his immortal pad.
Later that night…I could hear him unscrewing all the joints in his body…I could hear him painting a rope around his neck and I could see see him swinging from his celling like a crafted pendulum.
I rushed to him…and he was all there sleeping and perhaps dreaming.
I drank, I drank…and I tried to cry for a long time.
I was trapped in the fear of my cages.

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Painting: Pepijn Simon.