Will we

chance the dance
 Or will the rain drain

Our time together.

who else,
can stand the weight of the rain with you?

only I.

Consistently at par. Our souls
rose

chose

a new sun thats orange and red
Never a touch
always a word

to mend.

The patterns on every leaf
the road in every city
the bridge in every river

Is your life.
Is your lie.
is you.

cloud shift.

Witness the storm being born and your night being torn causing a slight change in the mood of the playlist and the songs that you share with yourself over a cup of coffee, strong.

I speak the language of this wind,
it peaks with a rythm
peach and a ribbon
his thick eyebrows
under butter strokes of puddles.

A duty of the skin is to perspire and be wet but a purpose of the skin is to hold you in regret.

of beats too sweaty.
of drums too heavy.

legs and arms are equally engaged
blame is a range
shoot with your shortcomings
swing worth
Shortening

It leaves abruptly

The spears fall.

Uninvited guest.

Too much beauty can be paralyzing. Curiosity has slept. 
Conversation dissolves.
Silences erupt.

Between fun and boredom 
I lick death.

To realize true friendships,
Look in retrospect.

never underestimate the power of a good molecular structure.
Let the air gush through you.
Be. Like a ventilator. 
At times, exhaust yourself.

Don’t smile too much. You look nice with a straight face on.

He met me and said 
I think you are the most interesting person.
I want to see you naked.

Sometimes you can’t feel butterflies in your stomach because they come and sit on your hands.

Don’t let it go to waste.
Co incidences do not recycle.
Supernatural mornings are hyper
Poetry is skin

Send me one of yours
No one has ever seen.

Sing a little slower
The tune of madness
A background score 
To my solitary gladness.

Silence is innovation.

Being far away from home sometimes means being closer and closer to myself. Having no roof to call my own makes me feel like the entire planet is my home. Watching the green grass spread itself over the half wet soil tells me that one day my lover is going to spread all over me with his green life so I could sustain this life's potency.  Thinking about existence shuts me up but thinking about you makes me talkative. Fog is unnecessary. It blocks the view without a reason. With your green life and my half wet surface I could spot you in an entirely different universe as I take a telescope and place it in front of my right eye. The time machine that it is, takes me back to your origin. Two and half million years ago. A time when your galaxy was still a baby trying on the color red. A time when your galaxy was alone and now its emerging as a wholly different breathing space devouring four other galaxies at the same time. 

Watching everything happen

Makes me

many things that do not happen

saves me

happenings

take me

takings

happen

being a little of of mind

comforts me

but last night,

I quit.