sara-nummenpaaWhisper

Finnish
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I Can't Hear it AnymoreThe empty air has a bitter tone / When it bites at my fingers / And yells profanities in an unrecognizable tongue.
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Damselflyyou’ve swept me away / in your rivers, / completely.
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HedonismI’ve ruffled your fragile ego, / words won’t take us far; / Bow your head in pleasure,
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SpacemanHis hands were fluttering birds; paper-thin skin stitched together with cerulean veins clung to bones, accentuating the already unnatural length of his fingers. They hung at his sides, writhing in a nervous agony - sweat glistened on their blushed palms. Those hands held the moons of Neptune. "Where are you going?" I asked, a soft echo. / The young man's head turned and he pulled a sad smile, "Oh, nowhere, really."
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Rubbing AlcoholDraw your foul tongue / out of the depths of your sleep. / The day has fermented
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There was an asphalt roadThere was an asphalt road along which I walked my childhood / In the warmth of the summers, in the warmth of careless feet / And strawberries strung on wild grass.
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A Brief History of StagnationTaken, this only route to the back of something blacker. / I left my fingernails to protest in the floorboard, / stuck, sticking still
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Invalid - HaikuMouth of sycamore, / Spell my name. Pray, how do I / Taste on your foul tongue?
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DistanceMy shoulders have grown weary under your enormous / gravity. / Like the sick summer nights in your breath,
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It is the Moonthe moon was just over / half full, and he watched it / as it floated above,
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