“Laceration Remarks”

I wished
To not long anymore
As all I could be
Was but just a thing
Yet not long as before
This does nothing to me
Ignored but a praise
All just reek the same
Indecent in vain
Circumvent my way home
Where I check for your absence
In every visible impression
For capillaries don’t lie
When the impact is sure
But like yearning of most
It’ll be hollowed just whole
As the dimness prevails
And your touch settles through
Rapid eye movements glow
In the instant I’m not
Tough I feel you for sure
Propped up and in charge
Where mimetic bolsters
Just echo your rhythms
Yet then dragged into form
Inactive but sure
I’ll feel for your grip
When I hold myself tight
I’d check everywhere
At my deepest and outward
I’d extort it out
If I knew where to hide
Your hand subcutane
Vigilantly obscured
In laceration’s remarks
Faded into my core

“Leipzig”

There’s not enough paper
For me to write
About what makes me cum
In spite of myself
For I don’t deserve love
And I don’t deserve chance
So why am I hard
In this party’s bathroom
In how your dilated eyes
Rip open my jeans
Because you’re coked up
And you want my dick
Which I mistake for me
For what makes me me
There’s still some piss stains
On the front of your lips
In how you don’t sleep
As a form of self-harm
And resent my hard cock
When you want my love
You tell me stand up
I need my throat trained
Ambivalent arms
Fill you with shame
When your roommate moved
I thought you’d kill yourself
Tethered to her
As you made it seem
Thanks for still being here
As that would’ve been shit
You make my cock cry
Unbeknownst every night

“Ideas Of Love That Do Not Belong To Me”

I have never felt the love one is inscribed with having to feel. I think movies have ruined that prospect for most, certainly for me. The Lady In The Tramp style of love. The type where if you don’t offer me any of your food, I’ll think something is wrong with this love. I remembered Bloc Party’s “This Modern Love” having nothing to do with the type of love I thought I knew. I thought that if you were on “the apps”, as in dating apps, that meant you were at least looking for something, someone to love, to fuck, to hate, to waste your time with. It never entered my mind that one could also use dating apps as a cover up for their own loneliness, which, supposedly, is at an all-time high for everyone. I can’t keep to myself because I get bored or end up hating myself so I would rather go out and have drinks with someone I don’t care all that much about. I have countless contacts in my phone of people I knew for about a month. I have more of those than the phone numbers of actual friends, which are few and far between. I have never longed for someone but for what they could’ve given me because I felt like my efforts deserved some kind of reward. Sometimes I got it and it felt fine, other times the chase for it was already enough. I became disinterested in knowing myself fully through other people’s gestures because I knew exactly who I was ever since I was sixteen, or at least I told myself that until I eventually believed it. She said she was looking for love love love. She said we should remain friend friends friends. I got up and left left left, but I never do even when I should. I told her that failures needed to be fucked too, in order for them to become an achievement, of what I don’t know. I looked at flights to somewhere remote and didn’t go. The idea of it, the possibility of leaving, was already enough, until it wasn’t. She said she was focusing on herself, whatever that meant. I lived my life as if it was a Las Vegas hotel room: cheap, fast, regretful and morally obtuse. I lived my life as if it didn’t belong to me.

Daniel Gianfranceschi (1999) is a multidisciplinary artist and writer working within the realms of painting, text and sound. Gianfranceschi previously studied fashion management under Prof. Sabine Resch & Prof. Markus Mattes and is now continuing his studies in painting and sound at the Academy of Fine Arts under Prof. Florian Pumhösl & Prof. Florian Hecker. His work has been shown at Kunstpavillon München, Goethe-Institut Athens, Künstlerhaus Stuttgart, Württembergischer Kunstverein and, most recently, Museum Brandhorst, among others. Writing contributions have been featured in Erratum Press, Cutt Press, Virgo Venus Press, Sleeve Magazine, Positionen Magazin, Frameless Magazin and more. His musical output has been performed at various institutions and featured in compilations by the likes of Industrial Coast, Les Horribles Travailleurs and more.