"welcome to Hell, darling."

he mumbled


and I nodded
taking the poison
from his lips


and sticking it between mine

I was a chimney

the smoke billowed up

clogging the room




"isn't it a lovely view?"

I feel sad about the memories I don't have
of all the places I haven't been to.
Sad about all the lives I could have lived
but didn't for barely having the one I got.
Sad for being bound to here and now
and in love with all that lay beyond.

I declined my life and failed the world
over a mad thirst for the impossible.
And to a guilt free conscience I put ahead
my demented love for the implausible.

I'm in a place
A place you don't want to be.
It's not a fun place.
It's a disastrous place
It's a loud place
It's an unhappy, overwhelming
Dark, dark place.
In fact,
It's not a place.
It's no where.

And there's no way out.

I'm still here, why are you crying..
I'm still here, why do I keep on crying too..

I'm still here but it's hard to imagine I'd be leaving this place.
Leaving those people behind,
Ditching the memories,
The good and the bad ones.

Are those tears of joy or sadness?  
Am I happy to leave, and begin a new begining , and discover new things and go on adventures.
Or  am i sad to leave, never seeing those people again, because everytime I think of it, I start crying.

Beautiful spots, different places.
That’s the things I want to see.
In different countries with their tallest edifice.
Where you can see Ego as eclipse.

Meeting different people,
interesting and innumerable.
Learning stories interminable,
to avoid you from too much intolerable.

Historic places I want to sight,
knowing the different happenings inside.
Either a leader, emperor, kings or pirates,
Pyramids, towers, places that is sacred.

I'm always surrounded
by any people
who never wanted to be happy
in their own destiny.

It boils in me
the will of the traveler
of wanting to leave
every moment

I've never been in other place,
except those in which I needed to be
– just for necessity... nothing else.

To Montreal I've never traveled,
but it must be better than here.
And maybe any place is that:
a refuge to the excess of monotony.

Cold New York streets
where the winds strike and sweep.
Where does time belong.

Long summer days
As they quickly fade to grey.
Where does time belong.

Moments of love
moments of truth.
Where does time belong.

The tree in the backyard
withered leaves fall.
Where does time belong.

Me holding you
you knowing me.
Where does time belong.

The here, the now, the everything
my breath, my voice, my heart beating.
Where does time belong.

My little puppy born today
slowly he will age away.
Where does time belong.

School yards, new buildings
they’ll crumble and fall.
Where does time belong.

i had to go to the library today. i walked through the park to get there. the sun was out but it was freezing and the wind was aggressive. i cut it right in half. a diagonal slice. along the way i touched the trees. i would reach up and run my fingers along the branches. i close my eyes and feel the bark, learning a whole new language. i like to touch the things i pass. trees, fences, telephone poles. it's getting to know my surroundings. it's learning them and learning from them. i want to know my territory by heart. blindfold me, set me free. i'll show you places you've never seen.