Kine Hjeldnes

G R I M E S: I don't want to have to compromise my morals in order to make a living

A Pile Of Stones

“Define my place in your body. Where do you feel me?” My words reduced him into a pile of stones. He never had a heart, only a hard-on. I touched his hand and his dick bonded with my cunt in that very second. But I reduced him into a pile of stones with my words. I guess he was always lost.

I wanted him to see, but blind can’t lead blind. We fumbled inside the walls of  my illution. We couldn’t get out. I lost my way, my words, my dignity, my heart, my whole fucking self, but I still wanted more.

When he was near, my body became alive. He was an illuminous shield that I could exsist under.

I vomit anger. I see myself deep down under water. Trying to run, tryng to breath, trying to scream, it’s all useless. There’s just no love. There’s just no love.

Small white bits of death are covering my world. My footsteps are silent. Everything’s silent. Not a sound, not a word. There’s no room or need for it though. Your skin’s seethrough and there’s no light inside. I could close my eyes but I would still smell your disbelief. Feel your hunger strangle and shrink my heart. And it’s such a small heart.

It’s forever an ocean to swim. It’s a hopeless and stupid idea, but if you can find some light to light through your skin, please bring it to me. I’m drowning, I’m bleeding, but I don’t wanna leave.

The cracks heal, the heart dies, the walls grow thick and the silence arrives.

An electron can not exsist alone

Nothing ever stays in one given form. Energy never dies. So, does it matter what kind of concept our energy operates in? Yes. We have an ego. You have needs. You have survival instincts. You don’t want to die and become a plant. Which basically is a good thing. But sometimes it leads us to only care for ourselves. Which basically is a bad thing.

Quantum mechanics tells us a rather interesting thing; An electron can not exsist alone. My energy is your energy. Without my energy there would not have been anything at all actually.

The human race has an amazingly huge lack of respect for its own exsistens. Which is a pretty interesting paradox since all we really want is to survive.

An electron can not exsist alone. Mantra of the year for me.

I’ve been here before
I recognize these walls
I’m not sure I ever left
Have I been dreaming it all

Have I been walking in my sleep
How could I be so weak

I walked out that door
Swore I was never going back no more
But the sounds of your knifes
Keeps bringing me back

Have I been walking in my sleep
How could I be so weak

Tomorrow is the day of peace
I’m laying down in clean sheets
Waiting for the morning rain to come
To rescue my rotten soul
To purify this poisoned bones

Have I been walking in my sleep
How could I be so weak

Every day’s the same. I work, I sleep. I drink redbull at 8 am. E-mails, numbers, phone calls, smiles. “How can I help you?” You should be helping me, asshole. The fall is here. We are rotting together, me and the fallen ones. The light can no longer feed us. We know the snow will kill us. Why do we bloom in spring? I wish there would never come another spring. That there would never be another glimpse of hope inside me.

I want to be weak. I want to lay down in my own shit and never rise. I want to fuck up so bad that there will never be a question about why that poor kid didn’t do any good for herself. Look away. Look at yourself. Do not look at me. You don’t see me anyway.

You don’t look so empty. I can see you’re moving. The train makes noises, but that’s a machine. Are you a machine? Do you notice my smell? When the train stops, you won’t remember my face. Or will you? I remember yours. You have tiny wrinkles around your mouth, big teeth. Your husband has a mustache. Your way too pretty for him. Pretty doesn’t matter, I know. You look at him and smile. He doesn’t look back, he listens to music. Outside, the sun is shining. For the first time this summer it seems happy to be here. I’m happy it’s here too, but the train is melting. I am melting. I am melting, can you see that?

I forgot my money. You look sceptical. Understandable. I can’t read you. I think you’re a ghost. I’m excusing myself, as always. You have a friend, he looks like someone from the 60’s. No 50’s. He’s nice. Smiles a lot more than you. Laughs at my stumbling jokes.

I’m finally home. Not home, in a house, where my bed is. It will soon come back, it haven’t left me. remember to breathe. I think myself into sleep.

Sleepers

Following rivers
Leading down to oceans
Where the dead thoughts are

But you are not water
And I can hear your breathing
I can see you stumble
I can feel your war

If you don’t go home
You will never go home
And your eyes will turn black
In the middle of the drown
And people don’t come back
When breathing can’t be found