I want to make her last eternal just as she’s done for me. Love is a strange game that lasts for a lifetime and regret is a deep rot. I’m afraid of what’s right and what’s wrong so I go quiet and distract myself with writing and the pretense that I know which wine is the good one. Which drug quells anxiety. Which- If I breathe in at the right moment, at the right place, I’ll be free- but, it’s never that easy. Love drifts along with you, stares at you and thinks of you. Love whispers things to you that you only understand many years later.
You get older and you get more and more complex all while striving, madly, for the flames of easy. A poet appears to vision iron against cherry-red kisses. Sadness and cold is for the lone man from the void; one thinks. Quoting Kierkegaard and things from vortex’. Emptiness.
A dark poet bends his neck. Quietness. Quietness is unmistakable until it’s followed by the footsteps of a darkened love. How the Iris blooms in the fuzzy wounds. How True Love blooms in our eyes. I wish I could see you and never see you.
Sapphires poison life with their beauty or is it just my mind high up, too human and thinking whatever I think. Thinking of, yeah, you. You, illuminated for the whole night now, followed by pure rust and the red mist. Anger and aggression at… What? Indo-china let’s say or, this time being truthful, the frost covered sky against the backdrop of my own magic images. Prophesies of my heart.
Haven’t slept in 48 hours, but… my heart chills when I hear how lights escaped the delicate eyes I’m not allowed to see. One time my mouth touched your white cheeks, lips, thoughts and music. All is desire. Understandable, understandable. How could I ever, ever avoid you. What began will never end.
Below is something from my novel that’s all about her.