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Oskar Erikson Nov 18
slighted fingertips
withdrawing from a near-fatal embrace
how does it feel?
to brush precariously
at the edge of something
infinitely beautiful;
to find the void
greeting you instead.

curled at waist height
or tied
to the belt loops of jeans
or smushed into pockets,
balled up
waiting for  another
chance to extend again.

there in the throes of night
unclenching, reclenching fists lay,
wondering

will the next time will be different
and
how will it feel?
Oskar Erikson Oct 25
body like a Hoplite,
raised from the dust to lay the land-
sent armed
ashen spear and heart,
trunks of armour clad legs
growing into the clay coloured Earth
rooted.

these lyre-heartstrings taut with longing.
to see
a browbeaten Myrmidon,
in daylight.

watch, as the breath of Zeus escapes
Grecian chests,
concave with muscle
Olympus itself exists within those crevices.

i lay offerings,
ambrosia soaked spoken word
at the under-flesh of your calf
laying beside myself
in hope the whispers bestowed to you from the Fates
on the eve of Troy
mean less with your lips, pressed to wine, against mine.
Oskar Erikson Oct 11
spotify playlists
made for times of sadness,
sometimes bring
sweeter moments,
when listened to
in the sunlight.
Oskar Erikson Oct 11
“have you ever felt love?” he asked

drinking
down
my
last one for the night
i replied,

like an atmosphere.
beginning:

playing football
in the communal
playground
pitched between
mountains of concrete
brown brick office blocks
blockaded high street shops
council housing kingdoms.

memory;

taking potshots at metal
goalposts slicked with
the rain and scabbed spray paint
till the olders kick us aside
basketballs in hand
for freethrows from the poverty line.

unlearning;

to think
love like marble
too cold and rich to touch
in fear that it’d turn out to be *****
like two boys
looking at each other for too long
can leave stains no amount of febreze can air out.

end;

i still can’t sleep in your arms
but you never stop searching for me
in yours
all there is left to do
is let
myself be found.
I grew up in East London. This is how I want to commemorate my leaving it.
Oskar Erikson Sep 28
fear
he who reaches into
the core of a heart
and makes
its cavities
music.

Oskar Erikson Sep 14
abcdefghijklm(full of words)abcdefghijklmnopqrstuvwxyz
opqrsabcdefghijklmnopqrstuvwxy­ztuvwxyzabcdefghijklmnopqrstuvwxyzabc(too scrambled to say) abcdefghijklmnopqrstuvwxyz
efghijklmnopqrstuvwxyzabcdefghijklmnop­qrstuvwxyz
abcdefghijklmnopqrstuvwxy(without swallowing)
abcdeabcdefghijklmnopqrstuvwxyzfghijklmnopqrstuvwxy­z
za(your tongue)abcdefghijabcdefghijklmnopqrstuvwxyz
bczdefghijklmabcdef­ghijklmnopqrstuvwxyznopqrstuvwxyz
abcdefghijklmnopqrstuv(in a misguided)abcdefghijklmn
wxyzabefldjhsycmjcdefghijklmnopqrstuvw­xyzabcdefghij
(attempt)klmnopqrstuvwxyzabcdefghijklmnopqrstuv­wxyz
                                          
                                     to decipher what this meant to you anyway.
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