I’m in all kinds of trouble now,
The kind where you wake up on a train
And everything, everything’s strange
And where am I? And when did the season change?
I must have been asleep.
I’m sure I must be late.
I’m in all kinds of danger.
The stranger on the platform is not a proper stranger.
“You’re here with me,” he says, “isn’t it great?”
And he’s right.
The kind where there’s too much meaning on the edges of sight
Because he might be there.
The kind where you randomly weep.
I’m in deep, deep hot water.
In a boiling hot geyser
In the mists
In the midst
Of ridiculous Icelandic snow.
Y’know,
You should give up the fags and eat fruit,
Because life should last longer, this life should last longer
If someone like him exists.
Everybody. Lock away the razors and save your lovely wrists:
Someone like him exists.
I’m in every single kind of trouble now
The kind where a kind man could write himself a significant part.
I’m in very grave danger
Of a change of heart.
Kan vara den finaste dikten jag någonsin läst.
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