I always thought that if I've got too much to say
I dont say a thing.
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And I really really don't
What is the intertextual meaning of your eyes while I eat your lips?
What are the cultural assumption of your fingers on my skin?
What are the metaphors in your head while I turn into an Allen Ginsberg poem under you?
What are the language choices really meant to achieve (which they do on  a Freud-deep level)?
I want to eat you like a book
Drink you as if Kerouac is your father
Bathe in you, because you are Nabokovs quill
I only have words to play with

I  want to see you in the daylight
Morning blues creeps onto your birthmarks
Eyes are so very bright
Your hair
Wrists
You.
You own yourself now
This is very important
Please love yourself
Please please please
Listen to me before my voice turns into an insane wild howl
Hitting the highest notes, disappears and I gasp for breath please listen
You are your very own
This is pretty much all you have.
Your belongings consist of two ardent eyes, stretchmarks,
Arms, legs issued by a pair each.
Your mind
Whatever is your every thought
Whatever you believe is true, simply
Because you believe it.
It’s all yours, this is you.
It’s all up to you.

I smell Motherland in the corridor
She crept up on me with her soap, drunken men and things I’d rather forget
I was thinking about death since I was 10.
.
The plane gets up,
Chicken soup is served.
Here are your nuts.
Have this lolly, the tension is getting
Higher
Higher
And higher
I cannot hear anything.
.
We are now in a very neat place
Incheon, South Korea
Fancy, shiny, pricey
Another plane, bigger
Higher
Higher
Higher
Yoghurt and cheesecake
I like this food better.
.
We get off, and even the ground shines
The air is very different
For the first day I smell this country it does has a specific smell
And after 5 years
You creep up on me, my love.
.

Stop looking for questions to ask
Because you know all the answers
You know exactly what you have to do and who
You want to be.
Stop whatever you want to stop
And do whatever you want to do but remember
To look at the right scale.
Don’t let a minority become a stick in a wheel to
Your big, grandiose plan or a desire
And remember that minor things are minor
None the less and none the more.

P. I
If God took LSD he would think he was me
I would never know I never took drugs
In school or out
Even that time when my eyes were red and I shout out
“Hugs not drugs!”
And hug my drugmate for whom hugs were too far and who lately stripped and walked the streets naked with me
Being absolutely sober ofcause.
P. II
I remember once
The shining sun went down and true suns shined
Upon someones bed
I danced tango with a pretty pretty boy
And then I made love to his girlfriend
I really do not understand how that happened
But the next morning we got dressed and I never saw them again.

P.III
After a long silent busride
With me and my best companion in roles of passengers
We drank wine and to be honest I do not remember much of that night
Except that when we winded up at a bustop I was kissing a girl
And I had no idea who she was and I don’t have any idea now.
We also met a gypsy who was one of the best people I’ve met
It was definitely one of the best nights.
I hope there are more of them to come.

At night
Streets of this city are isolated
Whoever said cities do not sleep might
Have lied.
The morning touches the sky so gently
As a lover
Paints it so tenderly
Yet with passion of blinding love
This city
Has people of most ardent eyes
Of most wonderous hearts.
I will be one of them sometime
That will be when I’m at my best.

I haven’t been
At my best yet.

“From that moment, I knew it was too late to save her.
She has gone all gooey in the middle.”


This is ******* ridiculous,
We are both awake at 1am and you don’t talk to me
I’m way too meretricious
Source of vast and ******.
What thoughts I have of you tonight?
This night, the other night?
The night you came to me in a dream
And frightened me with your sight?

I know I’m pathetic
This is  all the context of me
None of this is poetic,
I’m bathing in your disdain-
That’s the privilege of mine
Maybe the time will pass
And I wont feel the need to drown my sorrows in wine.
  
We are both together
On different sides of everything
That could be imagined-
Did we leave something that still stings?

Once in one of my angelic dreams
You were a creature that sings
You gave me hope, I don’t want to admit that
But in this machinery of morose bleeding days
It vanished, like it wasn’t even the case.