same boy you’ve always known


I know you’re out there
and I want you to think
good of me,
but in recent years
time hasn’t been
what it promised to be,
you taught me all
about the good and the bad
when you yourself weren’t sure,
and despite all evidence
to the contrary
my life isn’t as pure

and now I’ve left
your ways, and grown
into something, of my own
I know how you feel
but I’m not the same
boy, you’ve always known.

I know you’re out there
and maybe even
wondering what went wrong,
although it might be true
but we are right
where, we actually belong,
the times we spent
doodling our lives
on the dried canvas of dead leaves,
love me or not
but it wasn’t something
that was meant to be
and now I’ve left
your side, and grown
into something of my own,
you might feel betrayed
but i’m not the same
friend, you’ve always known.

black and white sketches.


i drew some
black and white sketches
last night

sketches of coffee cups
and steamy words
with no sugar
and cream.

sketches of bearded moon
hanging with
falling fireflies
and coughing out toxic breaths.

sketches of smoke
and spirits
masking the true sound
of art.

sketches of a lady in
red, walking away
in the rain
under her cover

walking away
from the black and white
sounds, of despair
and pain
of broken heart

isn’t being alone together
better than
being apart?

he’s leaving home


saturday morning
at 5 AM
he leaves his clothes
across the hallway
silently closing the door behind
he picks up the keys
and now he’s free.

goodbyes were
just some words on a note
that he hoped would say more
and as his friend
tries to recollect her clothes
from last night
she picks up the note
and clutches her handkerchief
“love is an adventure
when adventure is love”, it said
“i do love you but
if i don’t live now, i’d rather be dead.”

end + begin.


let’s talk about love, she said
her eyes waiting for me
how would you describe it
instead of just letting it be

all of this we’ll talk about
it’s just going to be a memory
it did take a long time to find
but something’s dead in me
we had laughed, we had played
we had leaned on and let in
and then the leaves turned cold
time always at the end, begins.

and the light drained back to
the window it flooded from
we sat in a dark silence
all things about love, gone.

daydream.


yesterday

i walked out in the streets of
a misty daydream
i stumbled on the sides of
a dozen dead realities
i saw many a men watering
roots of a dead tree
i heard a person die and
many people laughing
i met with an artist whose
art died in love

and i decided i’ll be going back
to forget about today

until tomorrow.

do not.


do not stand for me and wait
i won’t be there. it ain’t my trait.
i’ll be gone before you even know
along with gushing winds over the snow
i am the blinding light of your blues
i am the rain of a thousand hues
do not stand there and act shocked
you listened as well but never walked
when the stars drown you every night
i am the sailor of their guiding light
do not stand for me and try
i am not there. i did not die.

story time.


“i’ll be hoenest. just need some weeed”, begged the cardboard rested along a rusted shopping cart. that one cardboard has been through a lot, you can tell. still a bit wet from last night, the soggy words were starting to fade away. just like their creator, the proud owner of that shopping cart. and inside it rested her life. a sleeping bag. two blankets. change of clothes with dirt and dried grass tagging along for the ride. you could just stand next to the shopping cart and smell the last 17 years of her life.

that’s how strong she was, even though she appeared a fragile herb getting torn to pieces by wind and water at first sight. her closed shivering eyes at night embraced the cocaine blues on her face. the scars so deep that even rain had lost its pride seeping deep in them. and who wouldn’t? let god know even he can’t stop a poetic meltdown of a human body.

lana, they used to call her that. i never heard her saying that. maybe she had moved on from her last element of attachment to others. most probably she didn’t remember it. after all, it had been a while. 17 years since someone last called her by her own name. what was it? she would dream about it, and that night was the same.

a lost name in the streets.

and like every morning, her curiosity was infringed by the eagerness of life built on following so-called destiny of the man. the circus was up and running, and the sun shone shyly on the hopeless and the desperate. the world died every night, but the skeleton always got up in the morning and walked. lana was aware of it all. her favorite phrase was, “been there. done that.” she crawled out of her sleeping bag and kept away the blankets. the only thing she had to deal with was the changing nature of, well, nature. almost nothing else affected her. “hey whore, wake your hoe ass up.” shouted a male doppelgänger from across the street. ” who you calling a hoe you ugly ass son of a pathetic bitch? come here i’ll show you who’s a hoe you motherfucker…get the fuck outta here.” she screamed back, making sure her voice was loud and clear to the tenants of the road from 2 blocks and out.

like i said, almost nothing else affected her. who needs caffeine when you can start your day like that.