And so I stood there, swaying to the rhythm of this warm summer evening. With red blushing cheeks like a lovestruck teenager. A stranded and drifting sailor in a shipless ocean, floating endlessly in love. Confused and poisoned by male beauty and other complexities the nightlife has to offer. I did my best to smile for your singing eyes. A one-in-a-thousand chance encounter. A tiny speck in the vast and endless universe. Two ghostly and sickly white, floating giants in the same space. And so you lovingly moved towards my lonely island. Sail to me, please. And then sail back to me again.
Should I swim? Should I stand in the breakers? So unstable, I stand there at the edge of the stage. Seagulls circle around my head like vultures awaiting their soon-to-be dead meat. Are you my lifeboat or a great white shark? Be mischievous while I hide my insecurities. With my eyes lowered to these sticky festival grounds, my eyelids like soft fans on a hot summer night. I can be your personal hell or your own heaven. Do you want to sin together and let fate decide? The pill had already been swallowed, the sandbags unloaded. I float, completely under your spell. Swim to me. Swim to me and let me embrace you.
Fate has decided, you will hold me tight in the night. It’s nice to have someone who holds you. Your broad arms around my dirty shoulders. Safety and security in a world full of disgust and terror. I sing like a siren as the floor floods with saltwater. The white foam forming between our toes. The rustling of washed-up shells. I’ll come to your bed when you’re alone again. Hold my heart and gently squeeze it. Let me feel alive again, and then gently squeeze it until it squeaks and empties. And when I die in your arms, I will die with a smile on my face. In these green northern lights.
Martijn Winkel 