Apate
Apate, veiled in night, twists her tongue. Her lair is laid with bones of suitors from before, yet my hands caress and seek her siliconed embrace. Linked to Saana’s mythology […]
Author Archives: Björn Rudberg (brudberg)
Fear of shadowed rooms
Danced, by wind the snowflakes care not for tousled hair, nor warmth of breath exhaled nor death the gravestone harks. Their mark is soft, they melt on skin, wet the […]
Two AM decisions
Once he avalanched proposals thunderstormed decisions, rained om bottomless agreements, demanding black keyed signatures, while fucking interns past office hours in the copy room. From faux performance indicators, bonuses for […]
Almost well
The clock strikes twelve and all is almost well I’m close to warm with pillows to console me, as I lay here thinking of what once was dear the vows, […]
Yellow woods
A road not taken. You always said it was you, not me when you left me in the yellow woods. “We can still be friends”, I said. You smiled, “Of […]
Björn Rudbergs writings 