fredag den 23. marts 2018


I want to lead you to a clearing in the woods, and light a fire made of stuff outside of History with fireflies and jumping sparks and smoke that smells of pine. I want to dance together in a broken circle, more than memories, becoming moment, glee, and sounds in fleshy forms.

I want to be alone.

I want champagne.


We walked into the cold sauna together, and the elevator makes sounds, a sort of low humn, as it carries us through the belly of the building, and you often taste like smoke and sugar, too much; I remember how high you'd drive me, surrounded by stars, I've tried nothing else like it. You were the only one alive in a room filled with the dead, they were dancing, I was deep inside you.

It's funny how I finally really like myself while you are hating me. Little mice running for their lives, running from the Master. I cannot do it. I cannot do it. I cannot do it. I did it. I was free. I was my own night sky. Wearing white roses in my hair, and how much I am needed. It's as the prophesies foretold. Remember?

Running water and the sound is always somewhere in the background.

Le olam. The whole world is possessed.