“Depression is the way my eyes have learnt how to close more than open.”

Tear me open and rest inside me.

Here I am, a mosaic of becomings.

I am a child of borderlines and we are two lands, carved differently.

For once I want to be something that lasts.

I’m sorry only I can both drown you and be the summer that dries it away.

This foundation can only take the beating of one heart.

When you kissed me you breathed air into my lifeless soul.

I am unbearably human.

The most beautiful parts of your body are those you had to grow again.

Somewhere in these walls we’re still dancing, feeling nostalgic and much too in my head.

I’ve got nothing left to give but I keep digging deeper.

Read the scars on my body like braille, for I no longer know how to tell a story that belongs deeply to me but is no longer mine.

Living is not living when I am living without you.

Hope lingers like a moon.

I turn moments into poetry.

How does one love a person who is not a person but a multitude?

When I was a kid, I was like everyone else: afraid of getting nuked. We had drills in school – Sweden was very close to the Soviet Union. There was definitely a lot of tension.

I wrote many poems about her and held her so close to my heart that she did not even knew a place there.

You keep me at a distance when all I want to have you is close.

The greater a man’s talents, the more marked his idiosyncracies. Yet in the provinces originality is considered perilously close to lunacy.

The worst of prison life, he thought, was not being able to close his door.

Sorrows, as storms, bring down the clouds close to the earth; sorrows bring heaven down close; and they are instruments of cleansing and purifying.

I don’t want to show my body to the ones, who often close their eyes, when it’s time to praise the beauty of my mind and soul.

The closer you live to God, the smaller everything else appears.