Home of the author
I have been back for almost two weeks and only recently began to edit Project 1 (my second novel). In so many ways this is, and probably always will be, the most important text I have written because, as most of you know, I wrote the first sentence of it almost eight years ago when … Continue reading When writing becomes haunting
My treasured friend. When did you become so cold? When did your eyes roll back and ashen? When did your heart skip a beat and slumber? Did you not remember your friends? Yes. You forsake me in times of need. That is why I slumber. You see I was already gone. Forgotten. - F H Hakansson
Maggots Blisters ache, they throb, and they scar. I scratch. My skinless flesh leaks pus and blood. Maggot infested are these wounds. And my heart. With lipless lips I whisper to her; "Take it!" - F H Hakansson
Come Come find me, at world's end. Come see me, in broken glass. Come love me, rape my corpse. - F H Hakansson
Round Feet The sun fell and dark reigned. A man had himself a drink for he felt drained. He walked around with round feet, Until he saw a woman so sweet. He asked for a dance and they tumbled all night, And he brought her home without a fight. They made love in his bed … Continue reading Round Feet
How do I begin? How can one extract my experiences, format them into words, and make you know how I feel? Take a being like me: Handsome, charming, caring, warm and wealthy. Most have described me as perfect. Yet, I am far form it. Back then I could walk with confidence and chose my partner without any difficulty or concern for … Continue reading Hypocrisy
I dreamt that you were in my arms once more. Even if it was only for a moment, everything returned. You were standing in the hallway again.There was a look of bewilderment on your face. You reached for the door but I grabbed your hand and spun you around, only to be greeted by your eyes avoiding … Continue reading Wishful dreaming
F. H. Hakansson 