Daniel Hazelhoff : writer, poet, rapper

I look down at my right foot To see that the Toenails are painted, My raw left hand holds my cigarette. My face is painted vivid violet, but I did do that myself. The bar fight was won and lost in some seconds He pissed me off, ...

The row of the ore The dog and the whore The man in the back with rabies and more Foam from the mouth Sat on the couch The ouch of the blow Just another John Doe. The silence of the clan, The whisper in the back of the van The exh...

I sit here at this place And Look around myself I feel the old fear comfortably settled on the few tables Stools, people. Some miserable old man looks at me from across the room Into my eyes But, through my brain and my soul Past...

I smoke my cigarette, I gaze at the dead crimson flower lying lifelessly, limp upon the table, the smoke rises, my ring shines, I hear the freshly started conversations of those around me, they all seem so… well, into it, althou...