wine/whine

i long for feelings i've never felt
all i can fucking feel is salt drying on my eyelashes, the push, the pull, and the light. a warm pink tongue, but nothing on the other side. nothing in my head but the sempiternal silence. i want to lose it all in the hazy, the surreal and the vague.

i'm going to hell
i'm high, i'm drunk and your eyes
your eyes say what your hands can't

fuck this, i can't write anymore.

soft

a lucid soul writes poetry by the ocean
thinking of a girl that he met when he was eighteen
and when thunder shakes his bed in the nighttime
he grips to its metal frame


well, you're on my mind, gentle being
i hope the water lulls you to sleep
some day soon you'll kiss the hands of your lover
and dissolve into a blue-coloured dream

paris

i try to guess the waitress' perfume as she bends down,
sets a cup of strong coffee in front of me
i'm dripping wet from walking fourty minutes

i sleep with the windows of the motel wide open
it's still raining, and the cars never stop flying by
i'm trembling under the blankets on the cot

i'm in paris, in paris, in paris.
i wake and take a drag off a gauloise
i'm letting my bones absorb it all

 

p.s i took this photograph