Linnéa Nirell

[linneanirell]

Restless. Adjective as in not content; moving about. Strong matches: edgy, unsettled, unruly. As in disobedient. As in uncontrollable. Wild, fractious, violent. As in irresistible. As in inescapable. As in inevitable. Weak match: doomed. As in condemned. Adjective as in sentenced punishment. Strong match: trial. Noun as in test. Adjective as in experimental. Strong match: exploratory. Strong match: opening. Noun as in gap, hole. Way out. Strong match: tear. Noun as in rip, cut. Strong match: run. Strong match: escape. Noun as in breaking away. Strong match: release. Verb as in let go, let out. Strong match: surrender.

3/5

l. Nirell

❧ ig

[linneanirell]

perdu dans ses pensées, perdu dans son amour

lost in his thoughts, lost in his love

2024

l.nirell

❧ ig

[linneanirell]

in case of loss, please return to:

the inner parts of my soul

2025

l.nirell

❧ ig

[linneanirell]

craze

I want to rip into your chest

and drag you down

to your knees,

to the ground,

by your heart.

Push my bloodied fingers 

down your throat.

Taste the iron on your tongue,

take out your heart—

because it’s mine.

I want to drown the seed you’ve secretly sown in my chest.

It’s grown invasive,

spreading everywhere,

rooted in my mind,

crept into my lungs.

So now I taste you,

in every breath,

in every second,

of every hour—

all the time.

summer 24

l. Nirell

❧ ig

[linneanirell]

13

There’s something missing, isn’t there? As if the last four digits won’t fully register— not quite as they should. Maybe I’m in the wrong bracket. Or perhaps, it’s you.

We have one thing in common, though. So there’s no reason to fret, not really, not quite. We’re asking the same question, you and I: Who doesn’t belong here?

But these lines—you see them, don’t you? You should know them well. You’ve drawn them, in your sleep, since growing pains and bedtime stories. Through day and night, you carry a pen with you always, and now we stand here, on either side of this transparent wall.

It’s not anyone’s fault, not really. It’s a malfunction. But I’m not sure if it resides in me. Or in you.

l. Nirell, January 2025

❧ ig

[linneanirell]

clean, naked and stripped to the bones

9 January 2025

❧ ig

[linneanirell]

Each morning, I have breakfast with my madness in the soft summer sun. Each morning, it turns to me, telling me: You’ve gone mad. Each morning I spit and bite back: and whose fault is that? To which we fall silent as reflections flicker by. And my madness keeps me company all throughout the day. We hold hands and play guessing games to which there seems to be no winner. And my madness never really leaves me. Each evening we have dinner together in the sweltering summer sun and we ripen. Wont you ever leave me alone? I have other more important things to tend to than guessing games—but leaving would mean ripping up the roots to which what feeds me. So, I fall silent as reflections flicker by. 

[linneanirell]

don't melt just yet - let me have this a little while longer - hold until the ice nibbles at my fingers, until the cold fills my lungs, until it hurts - don't rush - keep everything just as it is - safely tucked away from the endless ticking

by Linnéa Nirell, from fragments.

❧ig

[linneanirell]

by Linnéa Nirell

❧ig

[linneanirell]

rest soul, lay easy now

❧ig

[linneanirell]

I will give you all that I have or nothing at all. You will receive every ounce of it; I'll offer it on a silver platter. Cherry on top. Even though it will leave me with nothing, it is yours, to have, to take. Come. Come, take all that I am. All that I am. For what am I, if not yours. Silence; loud, trembling, as if you're screaming into my ears. Your words, your voice, like runes on my skin. Eyes closed. Slowly dissolving. Come. Take all that I am. All that I am. For what am I, if not yours. - by Linnea Nirell

❧ig

[linneanirell]

Our shadows grow from out of the arc When we fall, we fall right apart  Come on now love Cut me out of your heart  Eight headed blade Left handed scar - Linnea Nirell

❧ig

[linneanirell]

Come all ye sirens  * :･ﾟ✴︎✧*:･ﾟ☾✧   

[linneanirell]

Some days, I pity you. Other days, I fight with myself to understand you. Most days, I still love you. Yesterday, I forgave you. Yet, tomorrow, I wish to forget. 

Today’s poem, tomorrow, by Linnéa Nirell.

❧ig

[linneanirell]

May I lay down in this field. I might forget where I came from or where I was going in the first place. Flowers might grow from within and, perhaps, I’ll stay here forever. 

may I lay down by Linnéa Nirell

❧ ig

[linneanirell]

A snippet from an older poem of mine ❧  

Please linger at the corners of my life by Linnéa Nirell

❧ig

[linneanirell]

I must have looked lovely during the days you quietly said your goodbyes. I realise now, what I thought was love within your eyes, was grief, and the dreams you created, the tales you told, was you living them for the very last time. I was caught up within those dreams. Like a child, I believed the illusion of it all. With your words, and with your hands, you placed steppingstones in front of me, and I walked upon them, not realising they were made out of nothing, and the plunge was indeed far. My heart was beating so incredibly loud that I was unable to recognise that yours had stopped. When did it begin to wither? First you were frozen in time. There was no before nor after. Everything was so still and you looked beautiful. I held onto you until you became solid. For how long has your body grown stale? I wish I would have known that your heart was ebbing. You carried your disease so well. Only now, when worms and maggots occupy your eyes, can I truly see. How did I look when I smiled at you those days? Do you remember? How did my warm skin feel against yours? My rosy lips? My tender hands as I brushed your hair from your eyes? Does my voice still echo within your ears, alongside those promises you made? Like a whisper? Can dead hearts even feel anything at all, after having withered? 

Today’s poem  ❧  

End to End by Linnéa Nirell

❧ ig