i sat amongst a parking lot of wayward people
dreadlocks & hair dye
& anything else to look alive.
bright colours - making deals;
shake on it and pay later is the mantra of the night
i want my hands over my ears,
i do not belong here-- my life isnt as vivid or as wild
i am not falling off the empire state
no. i am not at that stage
did the ocean whisper its love to you?
is that why you are what you do?

the lights are brighter for this generation
a world of people raised, artificial and capitalistic
shouting their poetry at the stars across
long forgotten paths

they call you reckless. i call you the only friends i ever had
but neither of us know you like you do.
ive never breathed a sigh of relief like you have &
my eyes dont close like yours do --

how can anybody talk when they dont walk in your shoes?

The cup of coffee is still warm
With stains of red lipstick.
Drops of ink are still fresh,
Splattered on the pages
Of my diary which is now,
Just a reminder of the past.
Sometime past midnight it is,
Time for a new start.

I miss the rain.
I miss the way it sounds at night,
The hushed rhythm of it in the grass and on the roof.
Snow is so silent.
So heavy.
Rain breathes.
Standing outside in the snow feels lonely.
Standing in the rain feels like being
Embraced.