We buried the truth somewhere in this valley of lies,
Somewhere beneath countless years of nostalgic regrets and shattered dreams.

Its imbedded somewhere between foraged memories and our unbroken hearts.

We dare not unearth it
because our self induced amnesia will forsake us,
intuition will deceive us and
our thoughts will shun us.

So we stumble and stomp
over germinations of a colder tomorrow
but we let them grow
because we know

that the harvest will fruit its rewards,even if we are apart.

I PAINTED on the roof of a skyscraper.
I painted a long while and called it a day's work.
The people on a corner swarmed and the traffic cop's whistle never let up all afternoon.
They were the same as bugs, many bugs on their way-
Those people on the go or at a standstill;
And the traffic cop a spot of blue, a splinter of brass,
Where the black tides ran around him
And he kept the street. I painted a long while
And called it a day's work.

feels like liquid velvet, doesn't it?
when you let the waves kiss your neck
and embrace your body
with fingernails sharp as crystal flakes
dragging you in
they smoothly caress your skin
like invisible needles in your stomach
make you want to stop breathing
just so you can make sure that this moment won't have an end
surrounded by blue
you ravage your lungs
to maintain coloured by the ocean
loosen your grip
but don't lose your mind
you won't find answers at the bottom of a bottle

*(k.w)

Hazel eyes hold untold sorrow,
Dreams of sleep without tomorrow.
A hopeless mind without a future,
A soup bowl born of shattered pewter.
Hidden away in a heart of ice,
Reignited and snuffed out twice,
A junkyard soul devoid of joy,
Another woman's one night toy.