Transforming under pressure. Transcending,
Shapeshifting. Gasping for air.
Asymmetric bodies, curving lines – twisting spines.
Dressed in wrinkly shirts, shaded eyes wide open.
Clinging to materials.
Folding sticky folds.
Now,
let us cover your shit in glitter.
All we hear,
is stop crying, start bying.
Degrading from being into having –
slipping from having into appearing.
Illusions keep rupturing. Cracks us up.
There's a thin line between facade and reality
and life is so spectacular
when turned into images. Falsely mirroring, distorting smiles.
Maybe fake is what we like.
Filled with hubris, like sweating crystals, breathing hard.
Keeping up, full filled lungs.
Sometimes in the ugly, sometimes in the pretty.
Always working,
chasing,
longing
in this wonderful world
of purchase power.
Still clamoring to victory, but all that is
meaningless rules.
Take these sneakers – stretch them out,
make them fit. Make them run.
Read our sticky lipstick lips:
Europe is lost, USA lost. Lets tear down those walls
like fabric.
Rising, tilting, plotting.
We are instruments,
reaching for
reconstruction of the mind.
Sharp teeth grinding – chewing shattered words.
Worn out stilettos, stuck in the mud.
Keys between our fingers, still running fearless through the night.
Still with fury, still with scars.
Sleeping deep, like sisters. Stroking inner thighs.
Cover our faces, smell our skin. Sense our presence.
Skriven i samarbete med Minna Palmqvist. 2021.