falling in love with romantic thoughts..
steady on about the 'haves' and the 'have nots'.
have not, you ever, thought about
what i'm talking about?
mind racing, keeping pace with the clouds.
bottles almost on empty, and i'm resenting,
another lonely night falling asleep with you, you, and you on the brain.
must refrain, a small need for change..
but a little unwilling to find the range
i can't contain, the steady stream of wine and smoke that keep me sane.
bottles collecting on the floor, back for more,
on that same 'ol, same 'ol
greatest love story never told.
truth be told, it never grows old.
i should really sleep but this bed is big and cold.
and you're a ways away, and so are you, and you.
wouldn't it be nice if we could all wake up and tell the truth?

post bar drinkin, your bed is sinkin
hand on my chest,
i know you feel my heart beating
wonder if you know what i’m thinkin
cause part of me is sayin “hold up”
wonderin if you’d be like “hold up”
so i keep on my cool, just enjoy the mood
cause i like this feeling, staring at your ceiling
“touched and tangled like a tango”
little kisses that i’m stealing
just breathe deep, then fall asleep
cause you’re not mine to keep
wake up to grey skies, i'm weary eyed
you're wide eyed, staring through the blinds
a quiet moment, watchin you eat
the beat in my brain keeps the peace
hit the ride, back to the streets
long drive home, alone, text the phone
tagged your car, said “thanks, love”
replied with “you’re welcome”
you wear your 'laid back',
take it slow, and own it
don't sweat the another night out
cause a moment's just a moment

my hangover is mild.
the bar's conversation was satisfying.
my drunk texts were minimal at best.
downstairs, john is sleeping it off on the couch.
brooklyn's wondering around here somewhere.
outside, it's grey and raining perfection.
my favorite colo(u)r.
there's a song ringing in my ears so fitting,
and i'm staring out the window.
i have something to look forward to.

if i didn't know any better, i'd think i was home.

i'm comfortable. i.

not you.. me.
you, above all people, should understand.
i'm looking.. at?
hopefully, this is the hardest part.
still trying, still.

this may be the year i disappear.

after this, you don't have an opinion.

And another regrettable thing about death
is the ceasing of your own brand of magic,
which took a whole life to develop and market-
the quips, the witticisms, the slant
adjusted to a few, those loved ones nearest
the lip of the stage, their soft faces blanched
in the footlight glow, their laughter close to tears,
their warm pooled breath in and out with your heartbeat,
their response and your performance twinned.
The jokes over the phone. The memories packed
in the rapid-access file. The whole act.
Who will do it again? That’s it: no one;
imitators and descendants aren’t the same.

- john updike, 1932-2009

i don't remember a minute before walking up to the restaurant.
i don't remember an hour before, "my name is.."



everybody knows, that nobody really knows.

it's been a long night.. rooftops and clouded sky,
cigarette smoke mixed with cool air filling my lungs (the cambiata ringing).


suspensão em um cigarro.

find yourself lost in pictures of where i want to be.

i've got this canvas that i'll paint with phrases that i never say out loud.
i'll perfect my imperfections with a charm and wit..
unmatched by another soul with timing as impeccable as mine.
i'll carry myself with a swagger that can't be touched,
while breathing in every word that escapes your lips.
i'll carry late night glances that will add a melody to my step,
and keep in mind that i posses a hustle fueled by self awareness.

rhythm keeps the body moving, passion keeps us afloat.