Caged as I am, no tears for you

April 15, 2014 - 2 Responses


Deck of curses

April 14, 2014 - 4 Responses


Called back from fourth row
with no time to discuss
unswallowed clarity
Just death alert
not later
not soon

A six year old hero pissing himself
and making low-fat promises
to overheated heart
Just love me, for gods’ sakes!

On your marks, on my knees
crawling up that pill
For things in need of iron
For house to claim my own
For strength to bear a tear
For courage to shut his voice
For how long?

by nokindofmagic, 28 September 2013


April 14, 2014 - 2 Responses


By the book I’ve never read

April 13, 2014 - Leave a Response


Just once

April 12, 2014 - 7 Responses


No place in heaven worth giving up these kisses

April 2, 2014 - 2 Responses

This song has been following me for years. There’s a rule my friends know too well and it goes: Magic listens to Tori, get a hanky, a glass of wine or pen and paper. Or all of them. Anyway, I feel the need to post it right now, even if it breaks my writing and publishing policy. This is sort of my goodbye to you, but just sort of. Please wish me a pleasant flight and if anyone wants a postcard, let me know. No, Belinda, you stay calm, you’ll get your own anyway :).



Mary McDee bit my ear again
and presented two tickets to Stockholm
salt inclusive
Ironically Swedes are far from prude
so I expect madness therapy
purifying nudity and countable
birches on the way
For her
I need to be the saint of Cosmopolis
the audience
the pillar
the devil
the bowl
the context

A sneeze between a dumpling and vodka shot

by nokindofmagic. 30August 2013

Tipsy physics

March 31, 2014 - 3 Responses


Soon I will come back, but what for?

Originally posted on No kind of Magic:

There were poses, of course. But instead of ‘from now on’ I decided on ‘I will never’. Quite foolish, I must admit; hence – stashing plastic bottles behind the wardrobe and painting music with mature smoke. How I longed for a better landscape! This image came back to me after five years, outsmarting geography with a little help from wild geese – truly horrifying neighbours of mine.

Solitude was pretty much the same.


Tonight he’s a smoker
on the pneumonic windowsill
Heartbreakingly indifferent
He still can’t decide
What that eastern racket

He’s not a drinker tonight
and the right words are slippery when dry
his oblong shape has

He can’t be a doctor all the time
Too many contradictory urges
for he’s an
overgrown breast cancer without a

View original

Yes, it’s here

March 31, 2014 - 3 Responses

For some reason I can’t force myself to write these days. Well, I could, but nothing good would come out of that. Luckily there’s plenty to photograph!



Tread carefully

March 30, 2014 - 5 Responses



And all the colours changed

March 27, 2014 - 10 Responses



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