claw foot, Deranged

No worries or fears 

Of not being successful,

Of you leaving, 

Or me not being here tomorrow

Just me,

My wrinkled fingers &

My bare body

No judgement can surpass

This iron-clad shield 

That is my bath

I am accepted here

I am perfect 

No opinions 

I am fully exposed 

Sweet Happiness

A possible reason for my excessive dwell in slumber must be my way of speeding up the waiting process. Waiting for you- to awaken me; whoever your may be.


Would you be there to hold my hair back while I hunch over a toilet bowl, all horrid and sick, way past midnight into the break of dawn?

back dimples

Is every reference to my passion, prose, potency and richness in writing- a reference to your glorious contours that make up the shape of your body, features, your perfection even in action; those sweet nothings you nudge and whisper. Potential of a gorgeous commitment.

release these Demons from me

There is this undeniable innate force of natural dance in the core of my being. In the back of my mind, there is always this illuminating idea that dance was a part of me, is a part of me. And that maybe it was so mistakenly a misjudgment when I believed that my trial period of dance had finally expired in ability to push through the rigorous hours of practice. And down deep inside is a rhythmical track elegantly and effortlessly matching the traveling vibrations, vibeing and prompting response. No thought just body imagery telling, a fresh version of the artist’s story. Motion in time, gracefully playing out the distinguished path like spilled liquid. The weirdness is mesmerizing. My body melts into the traveling lights fibers- pumping my heart alive. I feel the emotion on every point of my skin. Never again could I give this feeling up, here I turn back and recede to the past. 

Lykke Li I surrender.