A fist full of Tramadol, I swallowed without letting a single worried voice consern me. Just like high school.
These streets of scandinavia's most nihilistic but beautiful city is filled with crisp with snow. Headlines tells us not to leave our homes, but I dont have one. I arrived yesterday, naked under my grand mothers rabbit fur. The paleness of my skin slowly turned less white and more blue for every second spent outside. No bag, just a passport cigarettes and cash.
The freckled girl behind the bar gave me a disturbed look when I ordered my plum wine, they dont have any but they have a lot of port she answers. Thats not the same. Would you sleep with someone less attractive, less understanding, less educated just becaue that is the only option left when you know someone so much better is somewhere out there? She shrugged. I emptied the glas of port anyway. This is not an exit.
Four minuts blanc, not a second more, I rested for four minuts in a pile of snow. And you where there, wearing black. Removing wine stains below my lips with your thumb. Lifting me up, you almost tripped. But you didn't, you stayed stable. You kissed my left eyebrow. Dreams are nothing but a reflection of what we want. And I want that, an stable rock who sometimes almost fall to the ground.
And the second before my eyes opened again, and I realized that I am nowhere near stable. That must have been why he fell.