The cold December night wind reminds me of your voice,
reminds me of the baggage of polaroids of bitter sweet,
of velvet and grey,
of sleeping pill and happy pill.
I hope the night is kind to you.
i'm here wishing on 11.11 for
the bitter sweet polaroids are eternity.

Sees the colour purple
in my poor soul
i'm begging
to leave the edge of the cliff
and carry on with new baggage
of memories and life.

I have been long gone
I kept my memories
in a suitcase
preserved like fossils
in the museum of my room
but I will carry them with me
as I stumble on the
next thing
that falls in front of me

I have had mistakes
that tried to knock
on the walls of my mind
but it's about time
my brain learns
from practice
over and over
not to fall for their emotions
but to know how to cope with them

I have had moments
that tattooed smiles
on every neuron
creating memories
of moments
that I seek sanctuary in
whenever I find the need to

I have had the idea of change
marinating in me
almost forcing me to believe it
to live it, to breathe
then...

I have had you to look
into my eyes
sometime later
telling me to
"stop faking it
it's always
been you"

the chains of our
youth did not exist
as you may recall;
decisions made by
the flip of a switch,
seconds before hands
rose towards the sky.

novel textures fit
between fingers; smooth,
crisp – colors perfected by the
unwieldy and wild.
all a respite for
a world upon which hands
lay straight lines.

it's 3 am
all I could think of is the green of the other side
the faded darkness in my mind.

it's 3 am
all I could think of what ifs
what ifs I write a new book.

it's 3 am
all I could think of is God
and cloud nine taste.