listenthefuckup:

April 20th. A lot of people may have this date marked on their calender, others may not know what the hell I’m talking about. 420. A day when stoners smoke weed. Something they do every single day, but on this day, it’s just extra special. Why? Because it’s an awesome display of solidarity by…

A perfect sight, with expensive glasses, although I did not feel more bright. In my situation of crisis, I saw it in style. What made my life worthwhile.
A bright green parkas, telling me to think pink, my maredream not Kafkas.
Light brown clarks to state my war, black skinny jeans, I now know what nothing means.
A stolen t-shirt from the 80´s, chased by a dog infected with rabies.
The jacket is no longer practical, I pass it on to beautiful blondie, to me it feels very logical.
I had my glasses on… love was still blind, the duck, me and a nation so kind.

I dedicate this to think pink, & my favourite blondies in the world H&M, As in Hedda og Mrianne.

This is not my blog, but apparently tumblr thinks that my work should be here. No, this is the last post I write. I am odd lawnce, and sometimes I hate technology.
Don’t dare follow me, follow odd lawnce.
This blog is my mistake.

Me & lykke share the same background. I tell her not to be such a victim in her art. I can’t stand victims. But whatever… This is a nice video she and Tarik Saleh made. Lykke has been in my life since I was a teenager. She is a friend that brings me nostalgic thoughts. Even though the past doesn’t exist, sometimes it’s nice to go back in the pretend, like a fuck or someone beautiful Iv’e kissed.

Sometimes I just cannot stand my mother. She reminds me of myself and my brother.
Sometimes I just want to blame it on some other. It blinds me like a shitty cover.
Then I think time is an illusion, nothing has ever happened it’s all pretend.
It’s when Iv’e come too conclusion, we are no longer the fishermen’s friend.
It feels like you’ve been thrown into the ocean, I can’t breath nor speak.
I freeze to ice everything is going in slow motion. This is no holy week.

I try to to relate to my feeling, where did this begin.
I come clear and find my appealing. My rage is my other twin.
I become one with this awful emotion, and accept this is me.
Like if I drank a magic potion, so present and so calm like under the sea.

photo taken by: mario F.

The moon is making me crazy. I don’t feel my lazy. I don’t relate to my actions.  I just know my satisfaction. Feeling present, is awfully pleasant.
The music flowing into my ears, is keeping me from sleep.
The view of dears, the delicious sheep.
The self-esteem I build up, my champagne cup.
Nobody has the power to let me down, I am wearing my pretend crown.
The only person with the power of my emotions is the human controlling the devotion. My self, I put me down. I tear of my crown.
The only person who could ever love me, used to be my worst enemy.
Thus is me, it’s clear, the chimney. I worked a lot on it.
But fire blurs it up, a bit. Everything is suddenly unclear.
It’s half empty the cup. I start cleaning my mind, my fear.
Pills don’t work, It’s like getting poked in the brain by a fork.
I choose working with myself, remembering one self.