Fly on the wall

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.