Vandet er tom

som hendes øjne

i sommer

som vores ure

ved fødslen.


Et møl uden et vinge

flyver til køkkenet

hvor to måltilder hviler

i den stillheden af det kolde,

som igår

som altid.


Jeg er tomheden

mellem dine fødder

og jorden,

mellem dine hænder

og verden.




The water is empty

like her eyes

in summer

like our clocks

at birth.


A moth without a wing

flies into the kitchen

where two meals rest

in the quietness of the cold,

like yesterday

as always.


I am the emptiness

between your feet

and the earth,

between your hands

and the world.

Dreams Of The Sleepless

“Where do we go when we sleep?”

“We simply disappear.”

“And where do we go?”

“I’m not sure. In fact, I don’t think we actually go anywhere. We simply cease to be.”

“Would you go after me if I disappeared?”

She was lying on the blanket, staring at him with sleepy eyes. Her voice sounded far, as if she was already drifting in her sleep and hadn’t realised yet. Tired beams of sunlight came down through the thick foliage of their tree, drawing patterns and white shades on her oblivious shape.

He was sitting next to her, watching the clouds pass by through the narrow spaces between the branches and the leaves. From time to time, he turned to an old notebook and wrote something down, as if the cracks in the clouds held the answer to some unuttered question.

“I wouldn’t. We would disappear together.”

She sat up, suddenly woken up by the gravitas of his words. She looked deep into his eyes, trying to peer into the impenetrable mask that bore his gaze.

For the briefest of instants, the shadow of a smile danced on his lips.

“You lying bastard” she smiled back “you would probably start taking notes in that old notebook of yours while I vanish in my sleep.”

They remained silent for a while, reading each other’s eyes.

“Perhaps” he finally said.

He closed his notebook and lay next to her.

Before Hope

They never went back, did they?

To those days of old when everything seemed easier and brighter and smiles were true and sincere and didn’t hurt.

I guess they couldn’t.

They were just too entrenched in their new, darker but somehow more real realities. When a shadow falls, others follow, and there is not a single corner left in the world that feels real and alive again. No more joy in the little things, no more careless, breathtaking laughs. Just the frustration of the future that almost came to be but never was. The suspicion behind every secret glance, of every fleeting touch of the hand and every half-hearted smile.

But it’s not that the mirror has broken or that lights have dimmed. It’s only that you are just learning to see, to use your eyes for what they really were meant to.

Were they ever happy?

I guess they were. Only that they never realised. They were too busy trying to peer into the depths of a future that was only theirs to write and forgot about their present.

They forgot about themselves.

Will they ever be happy again?

I hope so. I trully hope. There’s already too much hatred in this world. I hope they learn to love themselves the way they could never love each other. Because they deserve it. They deserve to be happy. Even if they don’t know it. Even if they don’t feel it. Only when they accept that fact, only when they understand it, they will free to face the world. To struggle. To love.

To live.

Everything will be fine.

Everything. In no time at all.