a green house in jugendstil branches out
to me i want to live here, i do live here
but with an end-goal,
the end-goal always escapes.

in an end-goal that once existed
to me i should already be, i’m in it
but like the end of a rainbow,
dissipated, evaporated.

or already moved out, just before i moved in.
now, probably in the green house.