we’re all fools here.

lips red as wine
your limousine eyelashes
reflect the white
from the moon
tangled fingers slide
on our skin.

we’ll forever be inscribed
in the verses of the ocean.
this prose will live
to see
many a nights
and breathe through my breath
whenever I shut the lights down.

this moment will be safe
and away
from the dusty highway
and ashes in the air
rising from the fires
of our past.
your every touch
is a fragment of a memory
in my heart
who seek to go nowhere
but drown
in your river

forever.

 

Three More Days: a.co/8qmOtnw

what is it?

there is a truth
that waits within us.

it doesn’t scream out
for resolution
nor does it resist.

it paces itself
on our heartbeats
and goes unnoticed
before the silhouetted sunsets.
the insignificance is same to me
as to you.
but what does exist
that your touch on my lips
cannot reveal?

it lives on, unconvinced
by logic and faith
as I dive deeper
into your river
that sketches me into our horizon,
and the truth slowly
surfaces up
with my remains.

it will stay there
until one and all shall delight us
and we, them.

Three More Days: a.co/8qmOtnw

so the weather, huh?

of course it’s pleasant
but not all year round
us is the weather
we must look forward to
as the seasons are forever bound

to the very nature
of stay, like lovers’ ways
the nights they warm
in the january blues
under the showers dry as a day

together we deem greater than
what seasons ever mean
we’re everything less than
the bittersweet skies, and more than
their love has ever seen.

 

Three More Days: a.co/8qmOtnw

a cheap date.

i track the shadows
across the mist
the fog that hides away
the glowing pain
of technological advances.

i search in the conversations
of the settlers
who float in the flow
of an endless stream of
clever, organic reach
bubbled up by the wind
that blows them away, and I myself
fly, a few miles away
on a half-fictional highway.

i’m looking for the folklores
the old, and dusted names
in reprinted editions
in the pockets of
your ragged suits
in the colors of mission
any of those ghosts
will do, so long they bring me down
back to the earth
and haunt my face
through the misty mirror
before it turns blue
with deep black eyes
and a shiny smile
the one you pretend
whilst the black hole
of your screen glows endlessly.

i’m making an escape
much thanks for a cheap date
my feet are aching
for new grit.

 

Three More Days: a.co/8qmOtnw

here.

your eyes will study the lines
on my face, one day
though you are somehow unaffected
from the breathing of space
or the words i say.
amidst the picturesque explosion
of a pixelated city
you smile so dim
giving in to its sanity
your bones down to earth
is the apparition worth
your time?

or would you rather
come with me, and fly
to a place where your eyes
don’t have to
reach out for the light
where peace still lives
and recites the might
of an ignored perspective
of a beautiful painting
that never sold, that
never paid the bills
of my soul.

it’s all just made up
either in my mind, or lives
in between the intricacies
of these rhymes.
your eyes navigate carefully
through the trail my words
left, and follow the smell
of my air, slowly giving in
to the safety of my lair.

just stay there.

 

 

Three More Days: a.co/8qmOtnw

silence.

i am the dark
silence
of the night
in your room
sharing space
with your blues

occasionally
interrupted
by the howling
cries of your
deserted life.

When someone asked me to write about love

I had no idea.

Love.
Never really knew what it meant.
Never knew if I was ever in love with someone.
Or someone was ever in love with me.

People say it all the time. I said it just because that’s what you do.
It’s probably the most common phrase used in english.

“I love you.”

But I never had the actual feeling.

You know when you can’t fall asleep because reality is better than your dreams.
Or you feel like you’ve found your soul mate and all is good in the world.
Or when she’s right next to you and you fall in love with the way she falls asleep: slowly, and then all at once.

Yep. That one. Never had that.

No idea what it ever meant, or what it was.
Until one day, I realized what the Beatles were singing about in “all you need is love”.
It goes like this:

“Nothing you can make that can’t be made.
No one you can save that can’t be saved.
Nothing you can do but you can learn how to be you in time.
It’s easy.
All you need is love.
All you need is love.
All you need is love, love.
Love is all you need.”

It has this really catchy vibe, and of course because it’s the Beatles.
So I was listening to it and then I realized, love isn’t something that enriches your soul, finds you your purpose in life, makes you a better person, and all that bullshit.
It’s really simple.
If you think about it, all we really have is time. There is nothing else that matters in the long run. And only love can make this time count. Nothing else. It can be loving your family, loving your friends, girlfriends, boyfriends, animals, trees, dirt, food, your iPhone, whatever.

In that context, I fall in love every single day with something, or with someone. Love doesn’t have to be restricted to just one person. Or one job.

It’s limitless. It’s freedom.
And people try to cage it with their social and religious norms every single day.
Let love be what it is.

and love.

new books.

keep on

your old
shoes
and
vintage looks

and
buy new
books.

Come as you are

“Life is short. From here to that old car you know so well there is a stretch of twenty, twenty-five paces. It is a very short walk. Make those twenty-five steps. Now. Right now. Come just as you are. And we shall live happily ever after.”

― Vladimir Nabokov