Västmannagatan

Humörkaos
Swimming in the river of denial
Gliese 581g
Emitting a halo of rightness

Folkungagatan

Hjärtat i halsgropen

Nobel's blasting bunkers

Swedish House Mafia

Jag ska måla hela världen lilla mamma

Season of Mists

The more attractive the picture
The more likely it is to be out-of-date

Hollywood is writing our lives
How strangely appropriate
We are meat's dream

This is to be one incredible world

Nordic Design Boredom

Velcro on my palms

some more in my pockets

Being stiff

It's cold

I'm already

that old

When I get to heaven

tie me to a tree

Northern skies

Russian rockets

Pons asinorum

Pink lei
Milky Way rising

She slept in my coffin first
Poor logical heart

How do they think you get uncrazy
if you sleep all the time?

Just crying organs
singing in the night

About humans,
about gorillas

The ones with
opposing thumbs

People

An intense and beardy life
to hope for

To abolish flatlining
within fluorescent dreams

To stop worrying
about the safest place
on a plane

To go back
to an older folder:
The Basics

Notes to Self

Back when I wasn't alive
It was a very good year

And nowadays?
I am an owner
of a lonely hat

Who, by the way, did not ask
to see obese lions

As for the future
I'll cross that bridge
when I come to it

In Heaven, they say
Soft greens

A Letter to Home

I am the color of rusty iron
I step forward and bow a little bow

Commander glares at me
I try on the innocent look

The scientists
there is always a first time
someone says
it never hurts to learn
the local customs

Purely male
Just think about it
Still, I am not making
a judgment

Blue world
Thanks a lot
Still you aren't the one
who's being short-circuited

Seen it all

Broken hard,
the statue of nothingness

List of errors,
the high cost of loving

There is a road to somewhere
in case someone cares

Free patents,
the happiness within

Sample minds,
slumbering on our laps

Ships leaving the harbours
Flat Earth, an exciting prospect

The Goldfish Memoirs

Squishy brains inside personal skulls
pulsating nonsense memorabilia
Take it or leave it
heartbreak makes you famous

Yes, sensei
my faultlines, the clearly visible
Online, offline U.S.A.
The paradise below

Romantic involvement
Nippon gakki
made in Hong Kong
By hands so clearly invisible
that they touch no hearts, nowhere

Centaurs hunting bores
hot girl parallel universe
Ayers Rock / Uluru Day Spa
I'm so over you

Phil Collins Modifications

It's one big weepathon:
this generation and it's access to
hoops and immediate green

Watchers believe me,
This is the last science
the system of rotten souls
stars only a hollow word
hours, days of insomnia
all the fluorescent same

Not the vampire meat
the Hell of repetition
the dreams of the Maginot Line

Morituri te salutant

On many nights I have been in Berlin in my dreams. This Berlin isn't real, rather than a theatrical set: an endless, heavily built city with monumental builtings, church towers and statues covered in coal dust. I walk a steep hill and an ominous aeroplane passes me flying between the buildings. Finally I reach the banks of the river. The water is flooding on the pavement and people are pulling a dead horse out of the water. A horse the size of a whale. (Sampled from Ingmar Bergman's Laterna Magica)

* * *

A young black man sits on a bench in the subway car. He wears a grey business suit that is far too big for him. He has a fake diamond earring and scratched white shoes. He looks very tired, red eyes and all, but he is hanging onto his briefcase, going decisively to his meeting.

A little girl hops with dancing steps in the supermarket. She has a Burger King crown, golden locks and a grey teddybear coat. Fernsehturm is right outside the large sliding doors, flocks of birds circling the church dome.

Men are sitting in the park. Young men, adult men. They seem to do nothing, but you sense that they are about a business when you pass them. They look at you, waiting for you to look back. Otherwise the park is almost empty, thrash cages half full, some people sitting in the biergarten.

The girl at the café has dark rings around her eyes. She is pretty and she gives you tea made with a bunch of fresh mint leaves. You sit on a second-hand sofa surrounded by everything second-hand except for music that shines in plastic tones. Young women around a table near you would be happy to receive second-hand love, they have no more need for a brand new one.

The other day I suddenly felt more lonely than ever before. And I felt comfort within this emotion, at least for a while. I was thinking what is freedom? What would make me feel free? Free to do whatever I wished.