I blow a kiss, hoping that that it’ll bury itself to glow beneath your skin.
My thirst for rock ‘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 they’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.
You’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.
Can’t see the mirror’s truth when you listening to the daemon’s lie.
You decide my weather forecast. I decide yours.
I’ve traveled the longest distance but it wasn’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 i’m born,
a hopeful lust
and dreams in rust…