Hanna Lo Carlström

Blood orange, red, small blue eyelashes. Scratching at your skin. Big small birds, square patterns, the night chases all the shy cats. Keep your friend close, for great consequences and the broken ash, became long pulsing compulsions.

Two eyes large, from long ago, atmosphere or astronaut, and I could have shown myself less anxious. Do you hear something on the TV, are there neighbors under the sheets? Pine needles on the sheet, does the earth burn now? Can you ever sit still?

Bananas are rotten and the fly swims past in the aquarium, in the water, in the heat, the bottom is no longer near. But much can sprout from the soil. Along the way, the seal could rest in its cocoon. Disappeared in a shopping mall and didn’t know the way home. Moved to Stockholm to breathe fresh air, there are many shops with skin creams there. Do you hear voices, see hairy monsters and can’t sleep?

Pale dinosaurs that lost their taste, don’t taste anything at all. Is there more chirping in the background or is it just the night speaking unclearly? Do you remember rain against asphalt, do you remember clear messages from the RV? Can you breathe higher? The mosquito sucked the blood, vampires suck blood. A little bedtime story, the apple to hold. Condemned forgetful mask, contrast, water, splash.

Jaguar hits floral times, sandstorm, and all doubts. Cardboard, spiritual catastrophe, and you fall asleep against my ribs. Would have been okay if you held my hand. Clear air, pulled-down blinds. Dirty sarcasm, broken stripes. Can you make it now? To not realize the difference between large red eyes and the blood in your veins.

Image: Hanna Lo Carlström