The year was 1997
two months later jeff went to heaven
after you were born,
I am mad to think he died later on after he was reborn
in the form of another boy
who grew up from the south
whose face and body were sculpted by the gods
whose sign was ruled by the planet mars
the sixth out of my seven superstars
loud, magnetic, brilliant, thick eyebrows
seeing you closely as I stood next to two groupies was bizarre
I despise men except you
yes you-
you with your guitar
and your hundreds of poems
my unpretentious cinephile
you and your al pacino dreams make me smile
I adore you endlessly
I adore how you act so silly,
how you speak freely,
but how you feel deeply most of all
just like me
it was like looking at the reflection of my solitude and yearning
but when it comes to what you’re thinking
I could never read it behind those orbs of yours,
maybe no one could
because your thoughts are sacred
like how the others and I could only admire you from afar
untouchable, ethereal
six years later I am still writing about you
wondering if your muses have gone,
lost in all the people who came and left along with the fame that had died down
but I am still here,
a bear witness to the evolution of how a boy turned into a man
even if sometimes I am losing my will to live,
or how, a long time ago, I’ve stopped chasing my own dreams
but I am still here for you
no one measures up to you
eight point two billion living things
and you’re still incomparable
you’re the last boy on earth
long live my own version of jeffrey scott,
my modern day dylan,
I still have hope for you at least,
that may you find your way back to what you do best
and may it finally lead you to prominence
just like you always wanted
and if that time comes and I am no longer here
please live for me
and
be happy
Mar 17
Mar 17, 2026 at 3:32 PM UTC
The year was 1997
two months later jeff went to heaven
after you were born,
I am mad to think he died later on after he was reborn
in the form of another boy
who grew up from the south
whose face and body were sculpted by the gods
whose sign was ruled by the planet mars
the sixth out of my seven superstars
loud, magnetic, brilliant, thick eyebrows
seeing you closely as I stood next to two groupies was bizarre
I despise men except you
yes you-
you with your guitar
and your hundreds of poems
my unpretentious cinephile
you and your al pacino dreams make me smile
I adore you endlessly
I adore how you act so silly,
how you speak freely,
but how you feel deeply most of all
just like me
it was like looking at the reflection of my solitude and yearning
but when it comes to what you’re thinking
I could never read it behind those orbs of yours,
maybe no one could
because your thoughts are sacred
like how the others and I could only admire you from afar
untouchable, ethereal
six years later I am still writing about you
wondering if your muses have gone,
lost in all the people who came and left along with the fame that had died down
but I am still here,
a bear witness to the evolution of how a boy turned into a man
even if sometimes I am losing my will to live,
or how, a long time ago, I’ve stopped chasing my own dreams
but I am still here for you
no one measures up to you
eight point two billion living things
and you’re still incomparable
you’re the last boy on earth
long live my own version of jeffrey scott,
my modern day dylan,
I still have hope for you at least,
that may you find your way back to what you do best
and may it finally lead you to prominence
just like you always wanted
and if that time comes and I am no longer here
please live for me
and
be happy
