White noise

I want to say more

with less words

so that you can understand

the emptiness

of what should be

and is not.

And how that feels

like an avalanche

of white noise.


Not today.

This is not the day you crumble into ashes.
This is not the day you go up in flames.
Not today.
No, the beast does not win. Not today. Today you won’t wage war on yourself, you will not go looking for landmines.
No my darling, you will not.
Not today.
This day was not made for broken edges and acid rain, not for salty eyes and empty coffee cups.
This is not the day you decide the curtain call, the final note, the last nail in the coffin.
Not today.
Do you hear me? Not fucking today.
Come what may today you will not stumble and stay down, you will not crash and burn, you will not drown.
You will come up for air. Stand up.

This is not how the story ends.

Not today.


Love is take an umbrella in case it rains and watch out.

Love is felt and seen, a rock in a storm, a place to rest.

It is home and comfort.

It is madness and the edge.

Love is a forest fire; all consuming and beautiful. Love is healing.

Love is restless like a bird. Love is gravity; a force of nature, undeniable. Love is mathematics; a little hard at times but worth it.

Love is listening and gentle, fierce and powerful.

Love is hope.


Love is a dog in the night, howling at the moon. Love is a satelite and a sun, it is the river kissing the sea.

Love is a Sunday afternoon and 3 a.m. on a Tuesday night.

Love is you have to leave and be back soon.

Love is forgiveness and salvation. It is pain and truth and the secret. It is the answer to forgotten questions and questions that never get asked.

Love is apotheosis.

Love is everything you want it to be: no more, no less.



There are no directions.

There are no right decisions.

There is you and me and the space between us, which is not really space. It’s light and it’s blinding.

There is frozen time, the time when time stops and forgets itself. We have all our eternities in these moments that are not moments but more like an infinity and free-falling.

There is you and me but not us, just we. A line in the sand no one wants. A line in the air that can’t be seen. No weight, no meaning, non-existent. A line that is string, that is bone and diamond and unbreakable, that connects.

There is time but there isn’t. There are choices that aren’t choices, distance that isn’t distance.

There is no wrong answers.

There are no answers.

We make it up as we go.

Take my hand, there is a forever to be seen and an eternity to be felt.


I am nameless.

I am the wind in the trees and the light on the sand and the whisper of breathe.

I am the red bands of fate and the string that runs though space and time, that twists and turns and goes on and on and on.

I am the ticking of a clock in the afternoon, the scratch of pen on paper and the dead-space after a secret.

I am sorrow and pain and screaming. I am the Berlin wall and a black hole and a pool of blood. I am hand grenades and napalm and a bullet to the brain.

I am sunshine and beauty and truth. I am the smile of a child, a love letter, unexpected laughter that bursts out of you like a flock of birds taking flight. I am dreams and magic and the impossible.

I am everything and nothing. Contradictions and chaos, order and simplicity.

I am the new moon of darkness, I am the radiant sun.

I am fierce and powerful,vulnerable and scared, thunder and lightning, strangeness and charm.

I am the end, the beginning, the in-between.

The empty notes in a symphony, the skipped heartbeats, the held breathe, the flight before a fall.

I am all this and more.

What is there to be afraid of?


This much i know is true.

The heart is a traitor. Judas covered in blood, Judas without remorse. It slips through logic and reason like an assassin in the night. The heart wants what the heart wants. That is all.

To be beautiful is to endure pain. To be broken and bleeding and still stand up. Shattered glass is far more lovely than a perfect pane.

The stars keep shining, people keep dying and we have the audacity to think we matter. That’s humanity for you.

This much i know is true.

My head is a library.

A library in chaos; on fire, flooded, being built. I run through the aisles, on and on; looking for the answers. So certain that  it’s there, just look closer. See what’s in front of you.

All this information and what does it matter? Life leaves scars on us all.

One for you, two for pain, three for courage. Perhaps the secret is hidden everywhere. A moving time-bomb.

Tick tock,

I breathe butterflies and ashes. There is a fire inside me. It keeps me warm. It’s eating me alive.

I open my mouth to say help me, I’m sorry, I love you but all that comes out are daggers and stones.

I try, I do. But tell me how to survive when there’s nothing inside me, tell me how to live when I’m an anomaly, an aberration. Tell me how the unwanted survive.

The library is burning.

The heart beats on.

The air is turning liquid. We’re breathing water.

The butterflies are dying.

Ashes, ashes we all fall down.

I have the stars in my hands, the blades, the holy grail.

See this is how the steam escapes. This is how the gunpowder is thrown out. This is where the lies live; coiled like snakes, comforting and  constricting. This is where the truth hides.

The doors are open. Will you go through or will you stand in the flames and call it absolution? Stupidity. This is it. The time has come. Do or die.

Sweetheart it’ll be okay. It’s just a little blood. Just a little. It’s raining blood, hot and sticky. Blood like  water, blood like a solution.

It doesn’t matter.

Shut the fuck up. Don’t be a coward.


Blood, sweat and tears.

“Can I tell you a secret?’

Has anyone in the history of the world ever said no, no you cant’t .

Spare me your secrets because mine have been tearing my seams. I have secrets flowing in my blood and whispering in the hollows of my skull and I can’t keep them out and I can’t keep them in.

“Can I tell you a secret?’

Please don’t; I have too many of my own and they feel like I’ve swallowed stones, like I’ve swallowed glass and I’m bleeding, my hands are red and there’s no space for anymore. You tell me a secret and maybe I should tell you one in return but I’m sorry, I’m sorry I can’t. My secrets are too big and the stakes are too high and the moment has passed so let me hug my stories like blanket to keep away the monsters at night.

“Can I tell you a secret?’

Please do, I’m a collector of stories, of secrets like pebbles dug up at the beach and kept in glass bottles. A secret smells like sea salt, like cement, like blood, like nothing and like anything you want. Tell me a secret, tell me a story, tell me something to keep me awake at night. Show me your demons, maybe we’re not as alone as we think we are.

“Can I tell you a secret?”

Sure sweetheart go ahead, how much worse can it get? Let’s just get it over with. And later we can watch the sky and hope there were shooting stars because I don’t want to watch something else crash and burn. If every secret was a star we would be blinded so let’s watch the night while we can and wonder if there are secrets on the moon.