either not going or gladly accepting choir

All the books, I want to burn them. When did everything become a burden? Scratches on a surface tracing aliens in the sand what are you?

I gave up on a castle and white fences, beyond the necessary there is truce and there is truth but you can't have both - or is that your twisted way of giving up without trying?

Alpacas and llamas are pale excuses for the life I wanted to lead and I'm lost and stuck again and again.

Treasures are hard to come by.

2023.03.05

To put scribbles on a paper. To make thoughts and emotions visible. Sharing. Thinking. A sequence of hand movements, going from left to right, right to left or top to bottom. To express oneself, to leave a mark, to organize the abstract and intangible, to choose, to be creative, to give an opinion. (The shy person's preferred way of communication.)

A way to live, a reason for living. To write. To be. To be remembered.

2023.03.04

One compass to rule them all, one glue to bind them. 

Forged in a secret superpower, the flooded waters will cool, nearly free. This is new. I am trying 20 red wines under 20$ and building a diy aquarium from ikea.

The tree.

Let tired be tired, rest be rest. Routed pavement and stone shattered deep. Drop life drop hearts drop quick quick step drop tired drop sound drop mess in life led little seems fun. 

An empty paper cup, a plastic candy wrap, a scrap piece of fabric, a straw dropped on the ground and a stray piece of metal. By saws and scissors, I can build this world out of embers. 

2023.03.02

Quiet steps carved out of wood. Sahl.

 A word I finally understood. 

Listening in hushed tones and light flickering. 

2023.03.01

Assigned, sealed, delivered. Heartbeats and anxious thoughts. It is through self-reflection we meet the world, and through a poem that I release the shaking hands and things I said, or didn’t. 

Allow yourself to breathe. 

Allow yourself to release. 

Allow yourself some self-pity and comfort food but then let go. 

Go for a swim. 

The ocean’s cold this time of year but you can dip your feet

carefully. 

Designed to break. To churn. To hold. To Devour. 

Read to me in a voice that is soothing. 

Rest. 

Relax. 

Hallonlakrits. I ett badkar.

(2023.02.28)

Ringa in mig. Attachén överhopas av tunga sidenlakan i ett berg som åskmoln. Väck mig nu. Kom hit och spå i mina händer en framtid som förvillar, förväxlar, förtvivlar i sammetslena kinder. Rosenrasande, rött, renande. Han dansar i månskenet, förvildad av dödved och kamomillte.

Ett ansikte som sammanfattar ditt darkweb på bara några sekunder. Symptomlöst. Fritt. Tidsödande kravaller och hotfulla tillhyggen på gränslösa skärmar i vindens riktning. Adjö.

Hallonlakrits. I ett badkar.

English (google)translation:

Raspberry licorice. In a bathtub.

Call me in. The attaché is piled up with heavy silk sheets in a mountain like thundercloud. Wake me up now. Come here and divine in my hands a future that misleads, confuses, despairs in velvety cheeks. Rose furious, red, cleansing. He dances in the moonlight, wild with dead wood and chamomile tea.

A face that sums up your dark web in just seconds. Asymptomatic. Free. Time-wasting riots and menacing additions on limitless screens in the direction of the wind. Goodbye.

Raspberry licorice. In a bathtub.

(2023.02.27)

When cats, the bells around the cat’s neck, and tremor behold. I am eternal. It is deep of interest to request more responsibility from  - - basically everyone.

You turn it inside out, the arguments, in attempt to reconcile a worldview which does not make sense except to those (all of us) who choose not to see.

Cats. The bells around the cat’s neck chime when lurking behind a window, reaching for leisure and hot mess and the new Samsung galaxy something something. 

Because it looks pretty.

Adequate is nonsense in this world. I deem you unworthy.

You, of all people, at the clap of the hands that sign “attachment”. Abradement. The tearing down of layers. To simplify, to logic, to make more complex.