Ur Reckless Wedding, In Love, Maria Flook
In love, keep yourself half dead.
Wear white or wear black.
Rise up like smoke, or wait
as a stone beneath it.
Think of fog, hard rain, deep snow.
Remember the long walk through sand.
Never travel back
with the heart, or trust it
much with maps and landmarks.
Take an alternate street
and chase away every little dog.
Let go of sentiment´s heavy chain.
Forget hunger, let it stray behind
tall buildings. Fill it´s stomach with ice.
Don´t stand in the dark hoping
for small things to happen.
If a shade snaps open, or a light
goes on, keep walking. Look down,
underneath your own shadow.
Recite the recipe for glass, make prayers
with sand. Cut your lips with a beautiful
name. Then go to the red and blue lounges;
memorize legs and faces
as they appear flickering
under musical lights.
Drink until the heart and mind of it
are swallowed.
Sleep with one foot on the floor,
let dreams walk away
and never come back.
Turn like a wheel with night
and break apart, become two clear pieces.
Rain will surprise you with emergency bells.
The sun, in it´s coat of white light,
will attend you.
Another day holds a mirror to your lips.
Konstverk Brie Ruais