oh dear
and you have not yet
realized
that all i did was
yours
and i still do...
oh dear
your bird's head
on my chest
your hair on my lips
you smell like sleep
how dear
and how delicate
yes, sleep
sleep and dream
for it's your dream
i've been making
i've softened your
eyes
when i kissed them
and planted my seeds
in your heart
oh dear
and you still don't know
i'm grabbing your
hand
and leading you
little by little
one day, you'll be
there
standing alone
and i'll watch
and you'll forget
me
i'm already
proud
oh dear
i'm already a bit
sad.

i wish i had a thick beard.

an old friend once told me
"if you don't have self-confidence, you have nothing"
it's been some years...
and every now and then i realize how true it is.

i have a friend
and closer than a friend
someone there
closer to myself
than myself
it feels like myself
again
in his presence
no one seems
to understand better
better than wine
and better with wine
only when all is
calm
i lay back
or sway along
eyes closed
can't hold my eyebrows
from moving
slightly
when he speaks to me
he speaks to me
he holds me
and unfolds me
my fingers shiver
still
after many years
nothing seems to be
nothing seems to feel
nothing holds my lips
like this
nothing dearer than
chopin.

when i sleep you wake up
in my mind and ramble
and then i wake up only
to find you, my dream.

"i want to do with you what spring does with cherry trees"

this time

the pain holds to my brain
rather than to my heart.

a dream within a dream

take this kiss upon the brow!
and, in parting from you now,
thus much let me avow-
you are not wrong, who deem
that my days have been a dream;
yet if hope has flown away
in a night, or in a day,
in a vision, or in none,
is it therefore the less gone?
all that we see or seem
is but a dream within a dream.

i stand amid the roar
of a surf-tormented shore,
and i hold within my hand
grains of the golden sand-
how few! yet how they creep
through my fingers to the deep,
while i weep- while i weep!
o god! can i not grasp
them with a tighter clasp?
o god! can i not save
one from the pitiless wave?
is all that we see or seem
but a dream within a dream?

edgar allan poe

his place was just like his soul
a black wall, a crack in the wall
and a wall with a window.

there's something
if you name it
you fail
if you feel it
you survive.