News, news, urgent news!
An ultraterrestrial was found
at 5:45 on the New York subway.
The ultraterrestrial has schedule.
The ultraterrestrial has salary.
The ultraterrestrial does not have a hat.

News, news, urgent news!
Contact the WORLD, spread the word:
The ultraterrestrial is pale!
Science can not clarify
If the ultraterrestrial thinks or survive
The ultraterrestrial does not talk to the press

News, news, urgent news!
Protect the USA!
The ultraterrestrial is insane.
He does not care about Russia, Prussia
Lucia, or Lucian.
The ultraterrestrial has no ***
The ultraterrestrial is a disconnect.

News, news, urgent news!
We have the first interview:
Prefer to be in formula
than informed.
The ultraterrestrial knows History
(But can not tell stories)
The ultraterrestrial is weird.
He does not crave the car of the year.

News, news, urgent news!
Close NASA, forget Al-Qaeda:
The discovery of the century is here.
The ultraterrestrial is a Messiah.
The ultraterrestrial is a trend.
The ultraterrestrial is the greatest.

News, news, urgent news!
Beware!
If the ultraterrestrial is now a contagion
so the universe has become wasteful.

You are fire.
And I can burn
the warm of the title at the start.
Could you? Burnout?
Cause you still burns me inside.

It's ironic how you like it cool and fresh
You're not cool and you're not air.
You are fire.
A breath inducing and breathtaking
hell of a paradise.

Constantly I spread around:
"Fire is my favorite!"
But you never understood.
You always thought that is a childish reminder,
like this poem.
But it's honest.

I couldn't reach you last time, you know?
I felt like a kid running over a flambeau.
And you figured me out.
You saw under the flame mask,
You made my Icarus task,
and I fallen down.

After all this time and I'm not consumed.
Maybe a fool and maybe a loser,
but you're the vanity of my veins.
And you're slowly provoking me again.
Could you teach me how to fire?
Could you? This time? My dear...
I bring reinforced wings.

My characters 'd be incredible lovers
The type who knows what to say and what to do
When to say and when to do,
where to say and where to do.
It's weird that they're part of me.

And still, they can while I not.
All these things go blank out of the paper
like a broken printer when I need the most.
Eventually, there are pages, and I write them good
but you're missing because I'm bad written.

You'd love my characters.
It's easy to love the words
that I think when I'm leaving your home.
They speak it raw, they face you,
then you smile and burn the passion
that lies beyond the words.
I envy this so much.

I'm afraid that you meet one of them
walking on the street.
Then take a hit,
turn the heat,
make it hot,
say and do.
I'll be happy for you
but it's sad that, probably,
won't be a part of me.

I wish I could drink your sadness
and tear myself up instead.
And then cry a cry of happiness
seeing you smile again.

I wish I could show you, from my eyes,
the greatest infinity that ever was
is you. Believe me, it's true,
I'd give you one eye for that.

I wish I could lift you up
and spin you in the air,
foot on belly.
Not like you've being spinned.
Worn, exhausted, depleted,
always so high but so low.
I'd give you my map if I had one.

I like to look at you as I
like looking at the sky.
And while this unreachableness,
(is  that even a word ?)
hurts a bit,
it's bittersweet.
So still a bit sweet,
in the end, my friend.

I wish I could fly in your sky.
Be sure I would.