these paperbacks they know their age they smell of weight and time that's resting warm.
The opened box beside the endless box parade that haunts my house is fit to split with photographs that tell the wanderlust of years smashed on to years.
When all this actual life played out
Where the hell on Earth was I?
I rack my brains but it won't come
Through water damaged bloodshot eyes, the fleeting triumphs, brazen lies, all seem to mingle into one.
I read your name under words in your elegant hand you probably don't mean now
I fold the letter and think of a million and one things that I could have done different .
One gigantic fairy tale of friends I haven't seen in years, drinking 'til the daylight hurts.
You seem friendly, who are you?
Please just take these photos from my hands "
2 comentarii:
I travelled a far distance so I can get access to the Internet and modern electronics, such as a computer. I need to ask you, on behalf of my community, when is Pyotr going to show up again? Wishing you well and joy!
Pyotr will come back only when I will find out something I have to...find out ;;)
You know.
amish-ish hug >:D<
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