My leaf is still okay
Like our friendship will be someday

Green and vibrant
Who said I was violent?

No one, but a daisy
Delicate and lazy

The world is mad, how we live like this
What makes us need to hurt instead of kiss?

Down the line,
The world is divine

Worthless but great
Forever, ending in fate

In all the glory of the morning Sun,
you were my first.
When the dark encloses and I shut my eyes,
you will be my last.
Sometimes I get lost in the days
though.
And you become infinite
You are my piece of infinity

Because by James Franco
-adaptation-

Because

Because I read some books
and I was at museums.
Because I made no money,
Because I was handsome,
Because I travelled by bike,
Because I was not arrogant,
A bunch of people seemed to hate me.
I never met most of these people,
I only heard of them.
The only people I saw were the ones who carried me love,
And there were not many those people.
It was not easy to forget about the ones I heard
Hated me, and ****, some of them were actually accomplished names.
I closed the book, but I kept on reading,
I watched my move a million times,
But I did not understand myself any better.
But because I read some books,
Because I made no money,
This was the life I made for myself.
Years later, I decided to look at what I accomplished,
And I watched myself in the mirror, like an old movie, I hated who I saw.
And now he was the guy who died, after I stayed.

I'm thinking of love at 2:45 am.
And all the while, your face
pops up in my memory like a flower in a meadow of weeds.
I don't think i know how to love but
When I see that certain smile upon
Your face,
My heart skips a beat
And my stomach does flips
And my hands get sweaty
And my mouth runs dry.
And if that's love
Then, God.
I'm crazy for you.

the door
won't stop swinging
in the breeze

the water
in the kettle
whistles
while the blue
flames
dance
like the indians
did
in Peter Pan

the sky leaks
a lilac bruise
that taints
my eyes
and darkens
this empty
room

the chinese lanterns
hang
double as long
in the reflection
of the window
extending
to the trees

and i wonder
if your hand
feels like the warm patterns
of light
that they throw

the pale moths
silver and egg-shell blue
fall lilac
across the dusty
wooden floors
in the abandoned buildings
lining
7th avenue

they all fall
every night
just before
the scattered pages
that drift across
the room
like sail boats
in summer
on the waves
of the spring breeze

their eyes
the ones that long for the sun
but are open
at the wrong hour
always see
the black swirls
that run into each other

just before
their wings
stop to fly

and their souls
scream
in the heart of the crickets
hiding in the lawn
ignited by the fireflies

they just want to know
what those letters mean

let me hold your hand
and caress your wrist
barely
with my fingertips

look me in the eyes
and look away

i wish it was guilt
but guilt
isn't the synonym
for shame
and shame
is beige
and unrelenting
it's never halting
because
it's only
your conscience
you know

so move your hand
israel
and palestine

it seems to be so easy
to press
the red button

why then,
is the aftermath
so ******* hard

sometimes
i turn out all the lights
and stumble
in the dark

because all i see
with the lights on
is electricity
and certainty

sometimes it's better
to almost
stumble down
the stairs
and be saved by shadows
instead
of paleness