fuck 1...
i miss you
i don't care if it’s right or wrong
if i should write you or not
if i should call you or not
if i should see you or not
fuck 1
it's a rainy night in new york city
and i just miss you
that's all
that's the Truth for today
for now
for the mentally insane
for the people in gyms
for the priest
and the top midels
for you
and raymond chandler
and giocometti
and the cavemen
and me
and he
and
i wish i could be with you now
or
i wish you could be with me now
or whatever...
and there are white flowers on the table
and picnics in the parks
and spicy chicken legs in korean restaurants
and who cares?
who gives a damn if i am ok,
if you tell me about your pills,
and your childhood,
and your boyfriend?
Who cares if that transparent loneliness you breath
around gets thicker
and takes you far away from me
to wherever you want to retreat,
to hell
or to home?
who?
fuck honey
what else can a i say,
when it's almost one in the morning
and I have happiness so close I can almost smell it,
and there is nobody around
and i miss you?
what?
i just
hope you are feeling better
hope you can grab a plane and come with me
hope you get this message
because it's burning
and it will burn you too
