I blink quite often, the day just ends
And the nights rarely begin
The end is somewhere in the beginning
And I know it lies somewhere far ahead
It lies repeatedly and that’s the truth
Maybe I should stop paying my shrink so much
I push open the door quite often
And step out
Tripping on the trash bin outside someone’s door
Twice at a time.
Maybe I should stop the day from dawning on me
On the unmade bed
No pillow just covers
And the undead
chair by the window of honesty
that led
the pane inside the joyful noise
I see you sit there and smoke travels by your earlobe
And you can’t make a difference
between words and nicotine
And I can’t make a difference anyway
I have told you and some more
So many things
So many things
that I probably ruptured myself
and now I miss everyone.
I linger now
amongst the delicious fools,
who run behind marking tags on my words
for there is no language about me
I wouldn’t have known even if there was
Sometimes I talk of shutter speeds
Ecstasy and sometimes wine
I have never been strong
I live with hard traveling
and bad fun
I wear four tattoos
And I sleep with everyone.
I shoot myself quite often
Not like an arrow but a boomerang
I don’t look back at things and wonder
All of this is happening right now
My fingers are asleep and nails, a colour of light black
Even my phone wants me to be sensitive
And the internet wants to verify if I am human
I become aware quite often
Of the nodes in time
in the blackness of my visibility
the words I don’t find synonyms for
something or the other
Of the harmonica in my bag
Of a mouth that hasn’t played it for too long
May be a small rug by the edge
May be a mirror in the water
a dandy opportunity to eavesdrop
on the emptying clay bourbon cup
some walking backwards
time halt for salt
life just trapped in your tongue
like a word of love seldom spoken
something to warm my shoes
and a hole in the ground.
