Why is it
That inspiration hits
at all the wrong times?

Wandering the woods,
no pen in sight,
and suddenly the greatest idea dawns on me.
Distracts from the nature and beauty around
as I repeat it again and again
in the hopes that it will be etched into my mind.

I rush to the place
where I can write it all down
where it can be remembered forever
But when I arrive
It is gone without a trace.

At night, when all is dark,
when silence is the key to survival,
it slinks into bedrooms
and curls up in tired minds.

Keeps me awake for hours,
only to disappear at the first sign of light
leaving me alone again.

And yet, I'll stare at a paper
For days, years, decades
And ideas evade me.
My mind is blank
as the sheet in front of me.

And nothing comes to mind.

You make me feel like how a coffee do in the morning dew.

I ride waves
deeply unaware
of how long.
I ride waves
afraid to face
what will wash
up from the sea.
I dive in slowly
As if seconds
last forever
but in just minutes
I’m face to face
with the silent ticks
of each gone hour.

One day
     Or one night
You wake up in the middle of your life...
      and say...
      What’s wrong?
         Why are you crying?
            What are you missing?
Do you want to go back to sleep?

            No!

                 I want to live more!
                 I want to Love more!
                 I want to cry more...
                 I want to hug more...

Just Hug...
            and hug... and more...

Just for one day...
            or one night..
I want to stay awake...
           I want to be alive...

———•———
PS. ... but it’s  f**g  2 am...
...OK... but stay awake during the day... even when you go back to work in a cubicle...
               Do I have to? Yes...

Like tremulous waves of copper, the sun rises on your face
In the early morning peace
The birds, awakening, sing veraciously to one another, enveloped
In the ambivalence of the falling colors
Blue, yellow, orange, red, and black, all mesh together
In an embossed dew on your cheek
As you part your lips,
Inhaling the fresh taste of the morning air

Belied, you exhale,
Breathing

Knowing.

I lie awake with the moon, pouring my secrets to the ceiling,
Sinking in my own mind, drowning in my own thoughts.
I think my soul is missing.

One day, you wake up and start to see everything through another sight.
You see that we all are the same stupids human beings as everyone on this planet. Everyone is gray, everyone search only attention. That attention is necessary to keep alive their Ego. Egoistic and individualistic creature, that what is a human.
They need to be "the only one" in anything, but they're just another one doing nothing new, only hungry of "likes" and selling their self for nothing more than something that doesn't exists.
We are bored, we are sad, we are unsatisfied, we are...

Sorry, about....

how much  I
completely come--   a l l
              over myself;
the ceiling,  the window-blinds..  

the neighbor's cat..
walking  across the street

every single night, my love.
(true story)