Déjà Vu

I know

I’ve been here before
But I can’t seem to touch
The surface of what I feel

I know it’s the same difference

The same damage
In the outcome
When all is said and done.



Why whisper to the wind the secrets that
you kept?
– So it may lead its way home.

To ears of strangers at subways and streets?
– To her, a lost soul. Vagabond like her ears.

The moon and stars may intervene. The sun may rise and steal the wind.
– Then the sea will encapsulate the wind. A great wave of emotions flooding prays, that someday it will reach her saccharine-surface skin.

I Almost Touched His Hands

I almost touched his hand
When I reach over the shelf
I almost touched his hand
While realizing what I felt

I almost touched his hand
When I knew things are getting heavy
I almost touched his hand
Then I realized… I was not ready

I almost touched his hand
When on that same shelf
I saw my old revolver

I almost touched his hand
When I thought it’s going to be over

Screams Over The Horizon

As I walk along the pier

The Norwegian wind

Caresses my face

The creak of the wood

Underneath every step

Touched the soles of my shoes


Relaxed, I was

While the people lived

Amongst the sound of

The sails


Woeful conversations

With laughter and interest

Occupied my attention


I was not alone


And then I witnessed

The descending ball of flames

Oh so slowly kissing the Fjords

Just like old friends


The reflection shines the sky

Every ray of light

Turned this whole world

Blood red

My eminent fear

Crawled up

Hugged my whole being

As I gripped the railing


I Looked up

To see the fire

Covering the azure

While I shivered

My chilly fingers;

Frozen in the moment


From the horizon

To my skin

I felt an ache

To scream


My chest –in pain

My head –insane

The morning star disappeared


I lost sight of the people

I lost sight of the pier

I lost sight of myself


I was alone.