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Does Chaos Count as an Emotion?

Does chaos count as an emotion?
Or is it just another lie
we tell ourselves to hide
the fact of holes in our understanding
of the workings of the mind?

I look at you and all I feel is chaos –
a mingling of what is and was,
what could be had and lost
and what I truly feel hides there behind –
an answer that my mind won’t let me find.

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Early Morning – Fog

Heavy dampness in the air,
whiteness everywhere –
muffled sounds from far away
as morning wakes to day –

Tentative light that tries to poke
its fingers through the fog of sleep –
the war of Spring on Winter
leaves everything to soak
in clouds it dragged down deep –

The sun fights with the whiteness
and wafts it gently by –
yet something still remains
to cloud my mind and eye –

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Evening Dew

A trembling tune of blended birdsong
in the wood at nightfall –
the setting sun, the rising mist,
the thoughts of what today’s been done –

Your graceful poise out on the porch
as you observe the fading beams of day –
it must’ve been the evening dew
that stained your cheeks – and then you’d say;

“the world is changing all too fast, and so is I,”
and turned your saddened amber eyes to me –
but I will not believe that tears could be
the substance trickling down the face of you;

the foremost of this world’s now-living men?
It cannot be – it was the evening dew.

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Selskab

Hver lyd der udstødes
trækker energi med sig –
min mund udtaler
min dødsdom.

Til sidst suges følelserne
ud gennem porerne
så jeg sidder tilbage
tom, summende
af andres nærvær
indtil processen vender
og mine porer suger
deres fremmede essens
ind under huden
hvor den sætter sig
som uvelkomment
sediment.

Tømt for kraft
sidder jeg blandt dem –
hvert ord smerter.

Men jeg er for tynget
af sediment
til at
kunne flytte mig.

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Et suk

Jeg drømte ikke om at blive digter –
jeg drømte om at blive menneske.

Ja, jeg ønskede faktisk
at udskifte et fuldtonende hjerte
med disse klangløse skaller
med deres hule mislyd
som andre mennesker
sådan værner om –

Men er man først udstyret med et hjerte
kan man ikke sådan uden videre
give det fra sig
når ingen vil bytte –

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Du II

Du holdt om min arm –
solen skinnede –
vi snakkede –
vi grinede –
det var varmt
selvom det var tidligt på året –
du rystede på hovedet
så solens reflekser
dryssede ud af håret –

Du overskinnede solen
og jeg stod i skyggen –
ryggen var vendt mod mig
da du havde alt for travlt
med at skinne for alle andre
nu du ikke længere
kun havde mig –

Du strålede stadig
som en flamme
senere
da du tog afsted
i andres selskab.

Grænsen mellem kærlighed og had
består kun af ordet –

ensomhed –

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Cure This Blessing

Cure this blessed numbness
which I wished for when I
was enflamed, ensnared by senses
but never truly would have wanted
had I known the consequences;
the indifference, the irrelevance
of anything and everything –
a broken view of my old world,
no longer able to engage me
in the happy moments
caused by sensations –
now I no longer care.

Cure this numbness, please,
come and rescue me, I wish,
return me to what I have lost
although there might be purpose
behind said loss – come anyway!

I fear this blessed numbness,
a part of me doesn’t truly
want to stop feeling already –
come and bring me back again
to the sense-world I am leaving.

Come and lead the way gently,
come take my hands carefully,
draw me back into the world,
into the mindless buzzing whirl
whose edge I balance on
without you, all alone.

Cure this blessed numbness,
Don’t let me succumb to this feeling;
no feeling,
no sensation –
what vexation!
Is this supposed to be the end,
the final goal I hoped for, then?
If that is so I’m too afraid to go –
however flawed this world is
it’s still better than forgetfulness;
I am not ready for departure yet!

Come, bring me back again and then
stay with me, never let my feelings end!