I wait for you
In still coffee nights of wonder
In early morning bursts of perspective
In half naked mornings and silent torture
Which are not mutually exclusive.

I still wait for you
Among the faces, in between streaking strips of asphalt and concrete
Among the entropy, in dark gangways of nervousness and catharsis
Among the noise, in impulsive shortcuts and Jack's Mannequin
Which my muddy shoes do not like very much.

I still wait for you
Through the fuzzy vision of late night, walking on existentialist angst, struggling to find the meaning of suffering and life
Through the haze of alcoholic pain, stumbling across residual memories, pleading that all the 3 AM visions would stop
Through the nicotine fog, falling away from depressive reality, building a method heavily dependent on addictive escapist solutions
Which reduces my life span short enough,

To stop waiting for you.