On the Edge of Time

October 27th, 2018 I’m writing you one last time Annika Norlin It was nice to see you that morning at the station I’m sure you were a warrior in a previous incarnation Me, I must’ve been a rabbit or an ostrich Or a pile of trembling leaves sown together with cross stitch My anxiety has been holding me hostage I’ve developed this problem with a really tough itch I went to the clinic to get a prescription Cried a little in front of the physician Ointments and sedatives and antibiotics Went home with a bag full of legal narcotics The best is the sedatives, they work well but softly I don’t scratch myself in sleep, I pass out like a baby When I wake up I’m rested, I’m calm and happy The only bad thing is the strange dreams that haunt me I’m deep in the woods, in a village with teepees The branches from old oak trees hang heavy A woman carrying a baby greets me Says she’s glad that I came, she’s been trying to reach me She shows me around, the villagers are happy They give me some wine and flowers to greet me Their society’s based on a loose form of anarchy They’ve dealt with the climate, injustice and patriarchy Cause this is the future I can tell from their technology But they use it for good and they use it so sparsely They are not but slaves under their own machinery The cogwheels turn only when they think it’s necessary And the woman grabs my arm and she looks me in the eye She’s contacted me cause she’s worried bout our time This future is only one of many lines That we can potentially walk down you and I When I wake up I giggle cause it seems kinda cringey I think about their village, what a bunch of fucking hippies This must be because I read that book by Marge Piercy Where some people from the future make contact with Connie A woman in a mental institution in the seventies And show her their world that’s one of many possibilities And instill in her the hope to fight for humanity I loved that book, but as a document of history Cause now it seems strange to hope for anything at all When every step forward seems infinitely small Save the polar caps from melting by recycling milkbottles While the CEO’s are flying their pets to skilodges How vulnerable it is when someone says what they want Instead of just saying what they don’t want How easy it is to laugh at someone’s utopia After decades of being spoonfed dystopia I rub my cortison ointment on my eczema I take my sedatives and crawl up to the heater Keep treating the outside, ignoring the inside Keep treating the symptoms, not the root of the problems And in my next dream the woman’s back again This time she’s shouting cause her signal is fading I wake up sweating, my skin is itching I put some ice on it and sit down in the kitchen And outside the leaves are slowly falling Over pigeons, buildings, CEO’s and children I’m gripped by a love for this world that we live in And I think about a quote from Ursula Le Guin: “We live in capitalism. Its power seems inescapable So did the divine right of kings Any human power can be resisted And changed by human beings” There’s a dying light in the distance that beckons As the clocks are rapidly running out of seconds This is where I get off I reckon Take care of yourself, your friend Jens Lekman