I’ve got this friend,
He’s sharp, terse, let’s-get-to-the-point-and-move-on.
His answers are always brief, but precise and structured.
Sometimes, I look at him and see a list of pros and cons;
Sometimes, I look at him and think that he’s not too far gone;
He’s not far gone enough.

He doesn’t understand,
What are the uses of over-spilling words.
When I dwell, maybe too far gone, on metaphors.
My mind drives me to thoughts of consensual wild turns;
My mind drives me to creations of sensorial patterns;
I’m far gone enough.

He never overextends,
What are the uses of prolonged lines and blurred feelings.
When I stay, maybe too long gone, to revive emotions.
Memories I don’t hold on to, I just appreciate their ways of fleeting;
Memories I don’t hold on to, I memorize their departures, leaving;
They’re long gone enough.

He can’t comprehend,
Why is it that I have so much to say about such little matters.
What I breathe, maybe two lights on, it sends me into paradoxical dreams.
When I dream about someone else with the same longings and flavors;
When I dream about how they could taste the compatibility of characters;
I keep two lights on, and that’s enough.

No, he doesn’t understand,
Because he doesn’t let his mind wander like I do.
He is focused on the things beneath his eyes and feet.
When he speaks, no stutter can be found, he leaves no questionable clues;
When he speaks, no confusion can be found, perfect interview;
He’s not far gone enough.

He doesn’t apprehend,
The nonrepresentational reasons I try to present to him.
But, he still takes a glimpse of his time to read my hands.
Sometimes, the clarity of his coherence inspires my hymns;
Sometimes, the confusion of his clarity advocates the rhymes I trim;
His unversed habits are far too long gone, they weren’t enough.

Now, he might not understand,
But I hope that one day he will.
Not too far gone;
Not too long gone;
Not two lights on;
Not far too long gone…
Just for him to comprehend one teaspoon sip from my overdose of excitement;
Just for him to be on the receiving end of one drop from the seas of my sentiments.
“I don’t want to write my emotions; I want to feel them.”