I blow a kiss, hoping that that itâ€™ll bury itself to glow beneath your skin.
My thirst for rock â€˜n roll shrivels in the shadow of the music you play within me.
The telephone cord ties my tongue so i put my life in a poem and send it to you, wondering if my gesture equates sending my heart to Rome.
I may not have her but how many men can say that theyâ€™ve met the most beautiful woman in the world.
My diuretic heart lashed to your floor of thorns.
Your smile is a sunrise in my storm of you.
Youâ€™re my coagulated heart and favourite breath.
It was too chilly to fall in love yet still i kissed the tongue of an angel and gave birth to daemons.
On several occasions, Death has almost overtaken me but i would gladly face all those moments as one hideous monster than confront its parent called Love.
An angel born to earth.
Canâ€™t see the mirrorâ€™s truth when you listening to the daemonâ€™s lie.
You decide my weather forecast. I decide yours.
Iâ€™ve traveled the longest distance but it wasnâ€™t across the heart but the fall before and thereafter, where the weight of pain is fatter than any goddamn, fleshy fantasy…
Ripped and torn,
of this iâ€™m born,
a hopeful lust
and dreams in rust…