In a small town

Numbed by reaction

Stripped of the trust

A young heart is broken

Not aware that it is just

A family tradition.

What's right and what's wrong

Is in the back of a hand

While girls turn into women

And a boy to a man

The things start to surface

But he'll never know

Still they do linger

With nowhere to stand

Um outro verão sueco

Na minha Suécia os nomes da lista
não são de lugares são nomes químicos,
ou de pássaros, nomes delicados como os ossos
do corpo, escritos em letra de forma
a grafia do diabo. Todos os nomes próprios
estão deitados num lugar chamado Náströnd
(o único lugar que parece ter nome)
onde são lentamente envenenados.
O sangue é túrgido e os coágulos, dourados

Mon Jane B.

swimming with shark

dragging dead dear up

a hill licking off wounds

cracking skulls open on

sidewalk near my house

your car âge entre trente

et trente-un or unknown

unimaginable and chestnut

brown high school days

dull (as window pane with mist)

disparue ce matin a cinq heures

moins vingt you sleep on

the wheel (fast car and slender toy)

and I chez mes parents

In the end

Allow me to see what it's all coming to

Crumbs on the table and mud on his shoes

Dreading someone I can see where we've been

Drugs on a trail and nails digging in

Some hands will whop you and some hands will dig

Some say they'll stay 'till my last dying day

But if actions can speak and words cannot do

Ten thousand armies can't even fight through

Who's to say it's all for the best in the end?

[c.g.]

Summer in Sweden

light infuriating the room / distorted guitars and black metal / cold boy with american heart / spat in thousand faces and mine / diavolo and skean dhu / scotching I, and Then / rökning dödar is such sweet serenade / I drown and band did not make it / museet and monotype modern / or handwritten wall text / lumberjacks with axes to grind / masking tape for cracks / a demon in my hand.

On a neck, on a spit

My messenger in disguise

makes up for short goodbyes

You can't come home again

Each time is different

And the yards around your feet

fall away while you're asleep

Each day, spend it with me now,

All my time, spend it with me, but

each day I spend with you now

all my time I spend with you, but

out here no one can hear me.

[g.b.]

Their routine endlessly repeating

mimicking the impression of familiarity

ultimately he requests only that he should

be allowed to "my arms red as i write this" leave

in modern life finding meaningful escape can be hard