I can hear the sound of rain
Against the asphalt
The cars honking with
The almost unheard birds
Just a beat behind
But what stands out in my memory
Are the smoky grey skies
And the tree barks looking like
Shades of watercolour brown
Everything shining
Steaming silently, looking silvery
Peaceful
I remember a number of things
But I cannot forget
That smell
So reminiscent of rain

changing while softly slipping.
constantly moving with never enough room.
ending right in the middle of beginning
and always, too soon.

we feel nothing for the shapes of things.
we dive down in search for our wings
but first,
a few more hours of circling.

a spoonful of memories is all we need now.
better than handfuls of dust
or hinges with rust
anyhow.

draw us a picture without any clues,
and we'll sing you a song
describing the news.

come one
and come another,
but dont tell anyone
for they will be a bother.

there will be fresh secrets for all,
and nothing to remember or forget
provided one answers the call.
albeit, maybe none is met,
and we actually do forget.

what are we supposed to mean
when we are believing when we should be doubting?
what a scene
when it is actually seen.

isn't a bit freeing
when you're forgetting?

but why do i always remember the ending the best?

A world convulsed at fallacious lies,
With a pensive reality,
And caliginous skies.
A night as dark as the depths of hell,
Malignant capabilities,
Your sinister voice I know too well.

Due to your influence,
I have become oblique.
Dreading all the words
That you speak.
Am I truly the one you seek?

Now I have prospected
and also detected
That the only way to be consummate
Is to remain idyllic, and appreciate
The taciturnity you’ve effected

I apprehended
That I should have escaped while I could
But I pretended
Like I misunderstood
That you were do good.
You insanity was cloaked by a hood.

I’m not endorsing you to deliver my downfall,
Aforementioned here, is my last stand.
Absent from reality I’ve become,
Just to plummet down this peak once more,
Due to the careless vivacity
of the fellow that is blind,
to his doings unkind.

And now, all you do is provoke
The constant fear that I have chosen
the wrong bloke.
And for this I have frozen
A friendship that was golden.

I really shouldn’t crave you
but for some reason
I can’t abdicate.

6 degrees Celsius

From my balcony,
yes! the atlas
of my balcony;
with the music
of the masters
pouring forth,
from within,
I follow the stars
direction Norway
and Sweden
while around the corner
one looks
towards Iceland
and 'those islands'.
Cleeve is just across the way
and Paris and Brussels
down the road.

This is my mainland!

Underwater we have lived for years,
Where purple, blue, and yellow coral grows,
The wondrous colors erase all our fears,
And we drift on wherever the wind blows.
Dance with jellyfish and let go of our souls,
Swim with sharks and dwell on reckless love,
Always craving to lose all control,
And never look back to the world above.
Doze on sand while snails tickle our feet,
We lose our minds in tangles of seaweed,
Forget the future when lips touch so sweet,
So sure and confident that we will never bleed.
But we have human lungs not gills instead,
And then we notice everyone is dead.

Milleniums shredded into moments

Decades wound down to a single second

and I've only just found my sound
and addressed it

Like it's the only thing that could save me
and the little things could put me in my grave
But my hands are nothing without the hope
and faith that somehow something good
is happening somewhere

Maybe it was a long time ago,
before the lizards crawled out
from their ocean soul

Maybe it was the first time our eyes met
and didn't leave their place in space
for hours, and we were transfixed in grace
and drunk
on the holy spirits
of whatever we could find
lying around

Back when I was happy enough to just sit
and hear the sound of your voice
and somehow it validated every choice
I've made and it honestly seemed
like things would never be the same

Remember...
                        A precious glance is never
                              left to chance
            
                         And a touch is never forgotten
                              by the mind of the skin
                                     or those within

And if dreams are just things that we
see when we shut our eyes,
then this must be a dream
cause it still shines when I'm blind

And when I can't see I can still
hear the sound of your voice

And when I can't hear I can still
see the noise

When I can't see I can still hear the sound...

Lets tear this house down
and build it up from the ground