A sharkwind laced with need.
When the windows to my soul are smashed, by blowing shattering glances, gusts of words — as hail pebbles rolling on the hardwood floor. Doors are closed and locked, chains […]
Author Archives: Björn Rudberg (brudberg)
Even bedbugs
in bluish moonlight dancing shadow filigree — even bedbugs leave tiptoeing as syllables whispered for a gentle breeze Today Gayle are guestblogging at dVerse MTB, and she discuss on how […]
How bridges mean an end (or two)
Bridges should unite not part, they should be more beginnings than an end. Her phone vibrated in her pocket, just like it did the day they called: “Is this Joanne […]
My alabaster idol
My path is wrapped in bramble breathing is a heavy cart shade like shadow at the edge of night; f a l l i n g footsteps fall behind: persistent […]
Dreaming in stills
In anemic autumn, shadows chasing breath — a sickle sickness prints and clots with little death: a tear-trickled lacing rot in sentenced gloom, choking on the fags: doomed to tint […]
Björn Rudbergs writings 