Where Have All The Yesterdays Gone?
Do They Mingle Among Beds Of Flowers,
Or Do They Hide In The Saltiest Of Seas?
Do They Soar Upon A Raven's Wing,
Or Dance With The Honey Bees?
Do They Trudge Along A Rugged Trail,
Or Are They A Whisper In The Breeze?
I Intend On Finding Them,
For They Hold You And Me.

My mouth is a sawed-off shotgun;
A cannon,
it speaks,in shells;
It lights cigarettes.
It attacks
and reacts
with flawless accuracy
and technique.
My mouth is a pin-pulled grenade;
A landmine and
there's no
way to know
when it
will blow.
So count each breath
as a blessing
now,
and decide
how you are going
to let go.

in a city
where i cannot stay
off to an unknown town
i will fly away
for a new start
and better days
i'm only here
to be sane

thirty boxes
in which my whole life lays
packed and set to minimum
full and heavy luggages
pictures and books and letters
all memories packed away
with everything and everyone
i'm leaving in dismay
it's nobody's fault
i just need to get away

but in this dreadful city
my love stays
my source of happiness
and i simply cannot walk away
but in three years dear
he'd promised he will wait
in three years
back to this hell of a place
but not for too long
only to see my beloved's face
fill in the gaps of our missing time
once more to feel his embrace

but in time i will leave again
somewhere far away
a place i've never seen
where no one knows my name
and i will keep the same routine
pack, say goodbye, and fly away
consumed by wanderlust
stuck in a place for too long
i cannot stay

*-djs

I think I'm addicted to sadness.

I
folded my
map of the United
States into a perfect triangle
so that Arkansas and France would
overlap. I hoped this would mean that I could
be closer to you, by means of magic or something much
bigger than both of us (something neither of us believed in, but
if it meant we could see each other, then hell, I'm a believer). I traced my
fingertip over that map until my skin was raw and the color of ink, but still, you
remained over there and I, here. In that moment, I swore to myself that I could never
believe in miracles or magic or God or fate or love or hope or promises. Then, the doorbell rang.