I admire your disease
First comes taste
then comes intelligence
put the cat in the bin
and you have got yourself a killer

laugh until you bleed
feed your children with agony
step back and follow yourself
put reality on t.v
and you have got yourself a unison

but stop
forget yourself for a minute
you drunk heartless outcast
search your senses
cry for help

throw yourself on the ground
feel that road on the side of your face
put yourself in those shoes
and you have got yourself a job.

your job is to be able to tell what is real and what is not, be able to know who you are.
Find a cure.  
G. Sigríður Bjarnadóttir
1981 - ...
Allur réttur áskilinn höfundi.

Ljóð eftir G. Sigríði Bjarnadóttur

My Mate
I admire your disease
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