I started fighting them late this year
and what with the mild winter and dry summer
they are everywhere now
the thing has gone out of hand this time
visitors, neighbors, relatives, it has become everyone
so I am forced to do something
love me, love my spider webs is not an option anymore
I feel bad plugging in the Hoover
it‘s not me, I think, I am forced to do something
they are sucked into the steel tube one by one
roughly 1.3 meters between my hand and the killing hole
I start thinking about futility,
about the detachedness of killing
gas chambers and the holocaust
about how contrary to popular cultural belief
there‘s always an easy way out, babe
about how I don‘t step up to people to say
I hate you
I‘d rather keep the spiders and do without you
the easy way out: using the passive voice
they are killed, they are sucked in, I am forced
and that‘s when grasping the reason for my life-long addictions
comes into reach once more
I would give myself a hard bruise right now
if I was that kind of person
to be subject of one‘s own actions
active voice - reflective voice
for a lack of natural enemies, probably
I leave the house, go into the woods, put my hand into this huge anthill
- when I get back home
my kids are dancing barefoot to some Beach Boys tune
it smells of coffee
I hide my red swollen hand
and the perspective changes once again
but I still don‘t understand a thing about this life
