martes, 12 de octubre de 2010

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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

i wish i could be with you now
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?

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?


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