I sit here on the floor
waiting by the door

for night to sleep
then I will speak

about
midnight rain
waiting for its train
about monsters so small
for humans to tame

dreams,
let them float
to you.

don't try
to make them
into something
you wish
to dream about.

just let
the universe
decide.

ancient houses
old with mouses

no human soul
only coal
used to stove
patisserie

traces of
a metal brick
on wheels it is
the leather so tick
for comfort to sit
under the bridge

old-school curtains
from lace
crossed stitches
handmade
from the itches
to create

wind in my face
doing this since
I was half my age
sweat on my forehead
warmth from the helmet

moving fast
while
passion lasts
going up
going down

massage under my feet
cause the beton can't beat
all off the speed

make me small
so I won't fall
my knees low
wheels will grow

rollerblades
inline skates
rolling shoes

call them all what you want
make another brand
I still stand

What we thought we
had

more of

a gold-plated
something

showed we never had
to begin with

a successful person doesn't
wear a watch.

I wanted to use the words of alchemy to
depict every sensation you brought me
Though instead I’ve ended up birthing a terrible sensitivity and great capacity for expressing the broken pieces of what is left.
I Never Wanted To Be A Poet.