Stars I can’t see
My skin is too thin not to write about stars cause caring’s a burden that’s heavy to bear. So I sit here writing of stars, about wind in my hair, […]
Category Archives: sonnet
Balance of destruction
Is it treachery or sin to sense that tenderness is war and tactics? I felt neglected when you slept. I went crazy when you sighed. But when your hands in […]
A wanton moon
This wanton moon that makes me crave your innocence of marble nape my hands are ice, come be my slave I’ll steal your softness in my cape. I lust for […]
Morning on the metro
In chthonic snaking underneath we’re crammed commuting flesh to flesh; with faces luminent, as if our death: is closer now when brought us fresh a morning when from Manchester we […]
Only when you sleep
You carry in your wildness scent of moonlight and in your breath is blossom and the songs of graveyards, you are both the taste of night and awkward singe of […]
Björn Rudbergs writings 