The dusty windowpanes, the water-pecked window and the silent fridge - humming in the background.

What do houses do when nobody's home?

The silence must be awkward.
With the windows shut and the doors closed, do the houses mourn the silence or take it in peace?

What I wouldn't give to be a houseplant, just to get a taste of the silence.

Oh I really do wonder!

What do houses do when nobody's home?

The 5 O clock sun hit me with the abruptness of a bird flying into a window.
I squint in irritation and turn to look at my laptop screen.
I stare blankly at it for a while when my vision suddenly adjusts to the reflection of my chest on the screen.
I look intently.

The image of my chequered chest rising and falling, very slowly, burns into my head.
Isn’t this why we do everything we do?

To lie down on a warm bed of wet mud and take a lung full of fresh air before we fall into a deep slumber?

I hope you don't seep through my fingers like water
I hope you don't disappear like cotton candy in the wind
I hope you don't crumble like the powdery remains of a pillar
I hope you don't burn out like a dying candle
I hope you don't dissolve into the night like a black cat

New girl in the city

I hope I make it

Today, my day is painted a gauzy green.
I am feeling beautiful and lush and everywhere I see, I see nothing but beauty.

That is very simply put, I know.

But today is that kind of a day.

Just beautiful.

Of rocks
Of pebbles
Of mind
Of matter

Of lust
Of greed
Of love
Of kindness

Of hate
Of spite
Of endless blight

Of music
Of dance
Of a violent trance

Of me

It is just a song.

But is always also a memory laced with a high.
From ***, from love, from hatred, from pain ... from a 3AM joint.

So how is it just a song?

From going hip and leaving the simple behind to seeking the good old times

What are we but mindless vagrants?