Through the night I walk,
empty shadows paving the way
like streetlights.
On a date with Thanatos,
his bony hands clasping mine.
A unison in life, sanctioned in death.
Promised a ring of poppy
one day (night).
He’s a mediocre magician,
getting stuck in his own escape tricks.
He lights my cigarette upside down,
happy to support a lethal habit
to see me sooner.
He lifts me up to peek over the fence.
The grass isn’t always greener,
but it is grass nonetheless.
Dipping our feet in the dark abyss, Lethe
flows by us,
a never ending highway,
his brother skating down it.
No one can skate like him
and yet
he only looks to skate like his brother,
forever the imitation of an Ollie.
Running past the suburban homes
housing the dead,
the dog on old man hades porch barking threefold.
For fun we smash mailboxes,
twelve times.
I run faster
but he always catches me,
cradling me in his cold embrace;
a reminder of this
once-in-a-lifetime-encounter.
Enveloped by his mother,
making love inside her womb,
this union can’t last more than
forever.
Sad to be a one-night stand,
but knowing an awkward run in IS inevitable.
Skärselden 