No name  

Oh to be someone
With only a care for next task
No need for counting breathing
Then also who not to be
Than to be that someone
Who needs to think about tomorrow
A calculator for the steps
For you have to be
Someone who lives for yesterday
As aching is also an art
Ever After leaving nothing behind
but the broken glass slipper
no name

In the broken ages we thrive with words edgier than swords, over the bay window we hear seagulls taunting the waves for another storm.

Pavement taking over the woods
Treasuring breathable conversations between souls.
Then without even a slight sigh
the babbling brooks stops in their tracks leaving ****** steps of regret and nightmares of dinner dates.
We’ve been waiting and waiting for the rain, like a sigh of relief instead of wishful bliss

Whenever people come over, the silver is never shiny enough,
the windows not clean, chairs creaky, dust in corners and you’re never fully there.

How to please the people of yesterday, tomorrow or today.
To invite them into your own home, that may not be a castle or even a cozy cabin.

How to please, appeal to the upper crowd or even the town people.
The ones with similar shoes as you.
What to expect rather than regret, the crippling, snarling inner voice saying
“time for bed little you, tomorrow may be your last day of tjoho”

I just let the words leave my head.
But they are so dark and heavy,
that they weigh me down even more than when they left me.

When I write, the weight is suppose to leave me
Not reappear when I read it
Where all the gates are now closed surrounding all that is me
And my heart is locked and the key is nowhere to be found


Swedish

Jag lät orden bara lämna mitt huvud
Men de är så mörka och tunga att de väger ner mig mer än när de lämnade mig.

När jag skriver är det meningen att det tunga ska lämna mig. Inte läsa in mig och stänga alla grindar och spärra in mitt hjärta

The night I hurt myself

No one knew

The room was full

But no one saw

I was right there

But also not there

No one knew

No one saw

More or less I bled in silence

In front of them

But in hiding

No one knew

No one saw

(Maybe no one really cared.)

It's like I know the problem

I see the problem

But I don't understand the definition of what a problem is

I see three thousand windows to houses I don't recognize

And now I'm back at square one and I have no clue




"Fattar ingenting"

Det är som att jag vet problemet
Ser problemet,
Men förstår inte vad problem är,
Ser tretusen fönster till hus jag inte känner igen.
Och nu är jag tillbaka på ruta ett och fattar ingenting.