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.

Vintage Print.

Love explores with the eyes
It feeds on the heart
It separates me
from my mind.

Transformations are the hardest part.
You suddenly gifted
You suddenly robbed
In your life and in your mind
Have you really stopped?

You will never know.
I am all flowers
no stones.

Exquisite.

This is my safest place of danger.

Future far off 

black leather cover

over the seats

our second home

moves on four tires

is of the color green.

Sunlight close by

on my arms 

on his elbows

sadness can't touch us

we are too wise

for our own good

we keep our smiles

All the words have been said 

the revisions have been expressed

Every bird has made its nest

survival

home

company

isolation

in between my life

your gaze pressed

a silent pillar

of rejuvenation.

a reminder of holiness.

Before all this I forget

Meet me tomorrow at the same address

we'll go out picking raindrops in sand

or cover the streets

with our dream of threads

that connect you and me

telepathically

simple in its melody

of clouds whispering a promise of eternity.

lonesome dark.

Death is in this waiting.
My soul is in a prison.
its all my doing.
you dont have to apologize.
just realize

without you im only a shadow
with you I rise
in you I strive
for you I survive
under you I am gold
over you I am a diamond

just know
and feel
this loves intensity
on the surface of your bones
in the lines of your heart
materialize

the ribbons for me
breathe slow for me
discover yourself for me

how can I express?
this deep
deeper
mess?
is love.

how can we leave?
when our lives are so intertwined!
oh read the signs.
they say
come.

they say enter.

Find me.

People are always loosing things.
Objects are always disappearing.

objects are always loosing people.
people are always disappearing. 

A love so fine.

Ocean tides locked their eyes with mine. Matched the rhythm of their sighs before tossing me into the unknown abyss. These days are abyss like. I appreciate the nothingness,I sure do but I liked them even more when you let your nothingness press on me. On my arms, on my words, on my mind. 

There is a shadow of your left brain forming on my steering wheel. As if my love-balloon car still feels you sitting on the passenger seat and there are times I can hear my engine groan because it misses blowing cool air conditioned air on your prefect face.

Lets rejoice in the slowness. Before. After. In between.

Recognition.

All the rivers that seeped out of her
Flowed back to her
Through me.

Evenings gained
Afternoons gained
At the cost of our sanity.

It is obvious.
Your decisions and revisions come in the way.
In the way
Like speedbreakers
Of love.

But darling

When I am.
And you are.

Whats all this politics for?

Most of us.

I am an addict of self expression.
Creates me what I create.

I become
what becoming needs me to be.

doused and aroused by my own mind
I am a traveler
looking for a piece of stationary time.

on a mountain top.

Note to self : Patterns are everywhere. Recognize the patterns. Read the patterns.
Become aware of these 
patterns. Unlock these patterns. Unfold them. 
 Patterns hold the answers to the bigger picture. They make the bigger piture. Become sensitive to patterns in everyday life. 

A lot changes for the better.

Summer (again)

We spent away the nights

the mornings 

our pays.

We could roll down the windows 

and scream

Paper planes 

portfolios

cherry beams.

Three make one 

one made three

under the carpets

rugged 

you set us free.

Let the alien in our circumferential distances stay.

Don't loosen what is already so delicate.

 

Just a few words.

There is nothing more grasping than the incompleteness of this moment.

Of ; or pertaining to.

I know what the truth is.Illusion

is a constructed idea too.

My mind is running,

Like an army of toothpicks.

Have these words formed me?

Or am I the reason for their existence?

Are all the poets suffering  too?

In their confusion : and

moments of liberation.

Transgressing the path 

that is already fixed.

I know not

where the stars emerge from

In this holy scape

I know not

what creates matter.

Repeatedly ,

I dwell on this conflict.

A paper bag is empty

But its

also filled with  the emptiness.

I hope this paradox moves you,

for it is what it is.

The fire can't burn a hole in the water.

Water cannot create an abyss.

Me and You.
Rising Over a french moon.
Untangling the phone wires.
Picking up plums
for our childish desires.
And the black crow sits still.
And there's no way I could miss this.

Me and you.
Rising over a french moon .
craving for honey dew
witnessed by the purple rain
That  doesn't fit

In this clumsy view

You looked in my eyes.

sure I'd keep you

warm and unbreak

if there was ever a sign of love

Its this look on your face.

People resting in playgrounds.

 Everywhere I'm taken - some

  stay low

 others greet you

 some mislead

 some suffer

 others remain indifferent

 so I asked Mr.humble-stick

 which one are you?

The artwork shown below is not my work

Count .

Infusions. 
 Drops of honey on the piano keys. 
Perfectly rustic melody. Deep yellow. Shinning.
 A few gaps of silence 
filled with twitching flies before the night is taken away. 
watching the snow fall
 from my ceiling 
on to the iron books.