Thursday, November 20, 2008


The great moon overshines the thick clouds and there are beautiful creatures dancing behind it in other universes. I'm sure, I visited them yesterday. I remember the first time I slept beneath the stars. Now death holds my hand as we walk through a carnival with spectacular shadows that gathers into shapes of wild animals. Gravity is no longer exiting. Darkness comes and goes among the freakshow and I squeeze his hand tighter. I hear strange noice all around and things starts to move out of proportion. My throat swells. The wintertimes has arrived and my mental presence is burried. The only thing you see of me this time of year is nothing but a phantasm. Oh, what a mistake, what a waste, what a complete loss to no end. I'm so close to the windy evening. It brushes my cheek and sweeps away the night while we're still in deep slumber. It's violent and intruding by forcing itself through all sorts of fabrics who's covering every little inch of my body.
A dussin birds flew over the chaos below with nausea and despair. The silence is bawling its very soul out and now I know for sure that the flowers wont grow nor the air flow. Oh yes, now I know... This apathetic feeling of mine may never die. Oh, I'll have to ask the ruthless
nymphs to let me sleep. I look into your black eyes of desire. I swear, I thought I could fly. The waves surely find patterns between sorrow and joy and your desperate cry for help echoes in my mind as I walk along the wet, shiny aspahlt. Intense, distressful waves of weeping melodies are exploading from my old radio. I'm shivering deep, down inside. Such sweet flavour, I tell you.

Wednesday, November 19, 2008

Tuesday, November 18, 2008


Lions in the Street
Lions in the street and roaming. Dogs in heat, rabid, foaming. A beast caged in the heart of a city. The body of his mother rotting in the summer ground. He fled the town. He went down Sout and crossed the border. Left the chaos and disorder, back there over his shoulder. One morning he awoke in a green hotel with a strange creature groaning beside him, sweat oozed from its shiny skin.

Wake UpIs everybody in? Is everybody in? Is everybody in? The ceremony is about to begin. Wake up! You can't remember where it was. Had this dream stopped? The snake was pale gold glazed and shrunken, we were afraid to touch it. The sheets were hot dead prisons and she was beside me, old, she's, no: young. Her dark red hair, the white soft skin. Now, run to the mirror in the bathroom, look! She's coming in here. I can't live thru each slow century of her moving. I let my cheek slide down the cool smooth tile. Feel the good cold stinging blood. The smooth hissing snakes of rain...

A Little Game
Once I had a little game, I liked to crawl back in my brain. I think you know the game. I mean, I mean the game called "Go Insane". Now you should try this little game. Just close your eyes, forget your name, forget the world, forget the people and we'll erect a different steeple. This little game is fun to do. Just close your eyes, no way to lose and I'm right here, I'm going too release control. We're breaking through.
The Hill Dwellers
Way back deep into the brain, way back past the realm of pain. Back where there's never any rain and the rain falls gently on the town and over the heads of all of us and in the labyrinth of streams beneath quiet unearthly presence of nervous hill dwellers in the gentle hills around. Reptiles abounding fossils, caves, cool air heights. Each house repeats a mold, windows rolled. A beast car locked in against morning, all now sleeping. Rugs silent, mirrors vacant. Dust blind under the beds of lawful couples. Wound in sheets and daughters, smug with semen. Eyes in their nipples. WAIT! There's been a slaughter here. Don't stop to speak or look around. Your gloves and fan are on the ground. We're getting out of town, we're going on the run and you're the one I want to come!
Not to Touch the Earth
Not to touch the earth, not to see the sun, nothing left to do but run, run, run. Let's run, let's run. House upon the hill, moon is lying still, shadows of the trees witnessing the wild breeze. Come on, baby, run with me. Let's run. Run with me, run with me, run with me. Let's run. The mansion is warm at the top of the hill. Rich are the rooms and the comforts there. Red are the arms of luxuriant chairs and you won't know a thing till you get inside. Dead president's corpse in the driver's car. The engine runs on glue and tar. Come on along, not going very far to the East, to meet the Czar. Run with me, run with me, run with me. Let's run. Some outlaws live by the side of a lake, the minister's daughter's in love with the snake who lives in a well by the side of the road. Wake up, girl! We're almost home. Sun, sun, sun. Burn, burn, burn. Moon, moon, moon. I will get you soon, soon, soon! I am the Lizard King, I can do anything.
Names of the Kingdom
We came down the rivers and highways. We came down from forests and falls. We came down from Carson and Springfield. We came down from Phoenix enthralled and I can tell you the names of the kingdom, I can tell you the things that you know. Listening for a fistful of silence, climbing valleys into the shade.
The Palace of Exile
For seven years I dwelt in the loose palace of exile, playing strange games with the girls of the island. Now I have come again to the land of the fair and the strong and the wise brothers and sisters of the pale forest. Children of night who among you will run with the hunt? Now night arrives with her purple legion. Retire now to your tents and to your dreams. Tomorrow we enter the town of my birth. I want to be ready.


Friday, November 7, 2008

Jag sitter i min husvagn. Jag är hög. Det kryper under tröjan med smak av äcklet som sprider sig uppåt i halsen. Ögonen flackar och jag kan inte sluta tugga naglar. November månad är kommen och snön har fallit. Vintereksemet förstör mina armar och jag slutar inte klia. Fingrarna skriker och jag äger ingen karaktär.
Alla går runt i väntan på att bli knullade i röven av något slags instabilt mirakel som ska få allt nonsens att presentera en intetsägande likgiltighet. Ingenting är skrivet i oändlighetens aldrig. Vi glömmer att vi inte existerar tillsammans. Vi glömmer att det här är första gången vi ses. Jag försöker tygla min desperation. Låt mig bara stirra på dig ett tag. Jag kan höra hur de skjuter varandra bakom månen. Illusioner är endast brustna fantasier och där kan man bara drunkna och dö.