Wish on a star, a shooting star
for the death of a star is another old god being forgotten.

I forget what my face looks like
Because my face is always in the Facebooks,
Poking my head through other people's lives
Wishing I could be invited to.
I suffer from this curse
Of being picked last in everyone's mental gym class.
They normally pick the stronger ones,
the Foxier ones, the ones who wink at them
With quick glances across the gym.
We, my friends, are the easily forgotten ones.

you wanna **** yourself
so they put you where you'd rather die
where the fluorescents hum
and your life becomes eggshell, white
with pills you're fed
that make you emulate death
and the dead

eyes, that stare out
but barely do they do
and more oft, rarely too
instead, they turn within
and do as the dead

Why Is It Always So Quiet Here
Oh Yes, I Remember Now
It's Because I'm Dead
And No One Has Ever Visited My Grave

I cannot remember the memories I forgot
I'm sure they are there somewhere
between despair and uncaring
un sharing them
thus
they have diminished
like unfinished furniture
left in the cellar
dwellers of the dark

I once wrote poems
spilling my darkness
onto paper
now
I wish to write poems
spilling the light
I have found within myself
however
I seem to have lost my touch

-Kejtil

Solace is the
worn-out blue shoes and
quiet poignance of last night's dream;
an old conversation putting on loop —
a forgotten cascade tape;
morning light flitting through faded curtains,
hand holding a cup of sour coffee,
freshly brewed from loneliness chanting
stay, stay with me


Despair, old friend
visits after a dinner of pasta
blue shoes hitting pavement
passing the lanes of green and grey,
strolling around the meadow where
Gentian flowers glisten in full bloom
clouds wailing, pelting tears on
chilled cheeks, purple fingers shaking —
go home, go home


Forlorn,
distant beckoning lights,
swaying lanterns overhead saying
come, come to us
white sand on a winter shore where
you wrote my name,
next to a set of baby prints
before the waves came
and lapped them away murmuring
no more, no more


Sojourn,
running barefoot
down empty streets, crescent moon chasing
my back, scattering thoughts on the way
pine trees bending, cobblestone grumbling
at the scarlet sky, dancing with
your ghost one last time, whispering
farewell, farewell