Smörkäft

sculpted folds in graveyard rock keys adorn a rib cage lock rabbit droppings on your name you're gone but I remember tears that fall but never cling so things exist beyond the seen I feel your strangely shining light it owes nothing to the light of day

jag är flytande i latrin

På de fördömdas ö Finns det grisslor som aldrig lämnat stranden Som leker på den gyllne sanden Akvamarinägg i vår förglömmelse Calciumkristaller bliva korn På de fördömdas ö Finns det tistlar längs med hela slätten Drivved och rivna manschetter Rösen och kolcirklar Tipier utan klan

in the depressions in the street the water in the air bricks in the mildew on the leaves the dance of the creeping vine everything turns into music when your life is one big time lapse is it flower, is it weed now? the dance of the creeping vine when the sky is blurred and fuzzy and the link to God is severed warm up your voice with your fuchsia the dance of the creeping vine going round and round in circles spinning clockwise, quantum axis is it beauty, is it practice? the dance of the creeping vine

forevers fill up lifetimes with lives spent apart nobody can stomach whatever says the heart promises, broken hind legs otherwise healthy shot promises of lifetimes only start where we break off forever is more doomsay than kisses sweet of qualms forever is for lovers with lifetimes spent apart

I am being primed for the simplest of things I am being primed for the unanswerable I am being primed for impossible bonding that which you hear about but never may live deprived and unchanging done but never final I am being primed to no end, to no end when it snows the outdoors look like a room not primed for its vastness not primed for anything

how can you tell when you've become stranger the laughs just don't come as easy no more the trees bear more meaning the smiles become sentient the maintenance turns into way of life the heart grows calmer the mind grows stiller a false sense of safety an empty embrace how can you tell when you've become stranger why, only when you feel you have found your true face

the future has stopped in its tracks and dropped the torch in the mud and we've dispersed into the dark into the thousand-pronged fork heavy and scarlet lodged into the communal heart we never considered as shared holding ash to our bosoms driving the fork deeper still with complete indifference

if the longing would stop how could I go on why, I've given in to you, unrequitedness and there is no man more worthy of you than I— or any man, unrequitedness if the missing would stop how could I go on why, I've surrendered to you, unrequitedness and there is no one more alluring than you existing— tonight, unrequitedness in crumpled-up letters in windows ajar in starts and in ends, unrequitedness and it matters not so very much the face you wear, unrequitedness up close, from afar observed or ignored it's you, always, unrequitedness

the stagnation in the motion of crashing waves of the rocking ocean of the every crank and the every button and the every motion that ever was the what-ifs become ritualistic like the hand to mouth like breaking off the stub like neurons firing up in the firing squad the oh-bothers become tiresome like missing an hour of sleep like the gruel and the feed like the what-ifs and the every motion

the intention adopts the self