I am a liar
I told her I loved her
so as not to start a fire
but now that she's heard it
I must say it again
if I said "I love you" 7 times
I have lied 7 times
I don't even know how many lies I've told
even though the context of every one is the same:
I love you
this made a new truth in me
a truth I tell myself as often as I tell her a lie:
I hate myself
now that feels much better
the twisted honesty of it restores me
so that I look for a reason to say it again
I love you
I am a liar
I hate myself

The house was quiet and the world was calm.
The reader became the book; and summer night
Was like the conscious being of the book.
The house was quiet and the world was calm.
The words were spoken as if there was no book,
Except that the reader leaned above the page,
Wanted to lean, wanted much most to be
The scholar to whom the book is true, to whom
The summer night is like a perfection of thought.
The house was quiet because it had to be.
The quiet was part of the meaning, part of the mind:
The access of perfection to the page.
And the world was calm. The truth in a calm world,
In which there is no other meaning, itself
Is calm, itself is summer and night, itself
Is the reader leaning late and reading there.

let it go, the autumn
leaf, blown
by wintry winds.

let it go, this whirl,
its shivering
in the night.

ah, beyond,
there, where
there is nowhere.

All the rivers i longed,
a moist slightly rehearsing
dawn's dew, a glitter yet to be;

every shade of crimson
i concealed, sinking
the horizon in cooled suns;

each word i teared apart,
the weight of emptiness
forbidding to dare

- all i've declined
willingly
resigning life,

i have taken, to draw
a shore, your outline,
and, clandestine,

i watch, as the rain
washes away the horizon,
in the other side of the mirror.

equidistance
of time, in
non leaning hemispheres.
paradoxical spring tide.

He needed someone
Who'd take good care
Probably that kinda woman
Gentle and Fair.

He deserved the best love
In this wild jungle
The one in the Fairy tales
With a beautiful smile.

He had a life
That was so perfect
He was a happy man
With a lovely child.

On one dark evening
He lost everything
He lived in trouble.

Every day he woke up but stumbles
But his life was not only shambles.
It was a fight to be alive.

He'll keep on dreaming
He's gonna stand up and praise the Lord
That nothing ain't never written in the stone.

Maybe the next time I see you
I will put some lipstick on
And your fingers will find me
The way nobody ever will

Maybe the next time I see you
We can sit next to each other
And your hand could rest
Somewhere no one should know

Maybe the next time I see you
I can rest my head on your chest
As you rest your heart into me
With the world fading into oblivion