ever get the feeling you're
repeating yourself?

my life operates on a two
week cycle with her

Longing for two days
Silence for ten
Consolation for two days.

ever get the feeling you're
repeating yourself?

my life is an endless hell
of Deja, Deja, Deja
vu.

Endless lengths of pavement
Blurred city street lamps
after
Blurred city street lamps
Wheels constantly turning under us.

the only thing i know for sure
in this moment is how good my
hand feels holding yours.

this poem has no further message,
motives, regrets or sad endings.
It merely stands as a
timeless monument
to a
singular moment.

to the icelandic girl asleep
on my couch

i find you beautiful and
fascinating in a way i've
never found a american
girl. i find myself lacking
words, to speak to you or
to write about it. enigmatic,
it seems.

and it seems i'm far too
american for your tastes
it's written all over my ego
and fears, prescriptions and
words. you can tell. i can tell
i am of no romantic interest to
you.

but your smile?
makes frozen glaciers
forcefully crash
down

good luck with online dating
i'm eternally painfully, patiently waiting.

I've become a dull knife.
unable to slice or pierce the thinnest material.
Now merely a dud of a firecracker,
Where I used to be a explosion tearing apart the night sky.

A tired metaphor, that merely wants to sleep until the day my soul reawakens.