Kin.

Jag brukar skriva en hel del i min ensamhet, men sällan låta någon läsa det. Men som en klok man sa en gång - det finns ju ingen större mening med att hålla saker för sig själv. Så here goes...


My five senses

The man sitting by the bar with a smirky smile on his face
The prostitute girl who cried and begged for me to bring her sister there
The guys who kept diary of all the girls they had payed to fuck
I remember their faces.

The little boy who will grow up and be the most beautiful man alive
The little girl who cried in her crib and smiled in my arms
The unborn baby whom I felt through my mothers stomach
I remember their touch.

The man on stage who looked at me and sang the most beautiful lyric ever
The band in the spotlight who fell apart because of drugs
The audience who went wild when they heard their favourite song
I remember the sound.

The porridge that tasted great because of the company of my best friend
The fillet that tasted like shit because everybody was fighting
The new food I had never had that made my taste buds go crazy
I remember the flavour.

The smell of my shirt when having danced with the boy I loved
The smell of spring when all the snow was gone and we could feel the sun
The smell of my mom when she holds med tight
I remember the scent.