The graveyard roses
Your tone’s a knife — carving ink-blot syllables, rust-and-oil-despicable, you’re hurling gazes laced with deep contempt, with thistle words and soot I’m suffocated, I am a stranded fish. We pick […]
Tag Archives: ends
The tear of tears
Recalling sting of sudden words unsheathed the billowed darkness growing as the smoke of sentences, of claws and dragon’s teeth. Our home’s a battlefield, I wander cloaked among the ruins […]
Bluebells
The summer knell – a quiver in the breeze of meadow bluebells, shadow-fighting dusk, when slanting rays caress with drowsy bees, you slowly slip your sense, around the musk of […]
Björn Rudbergs writings 