A course of action that one intends to follow of or relating to humanly audible sound ( Read more... )

Slowly, under sepia-toned skies
two hands pierce the rainstorm
through slats in the beige frame.
Voices rise and fall,
giving the warm illusion
of communication.
The ceiling cracks
releasing electricity like snakes
to strike and then retreat.
But safely, we curl around the corners
growing softly closer,
shortly smarter.
And still unbelieving
of this
gold

And now, to debunk the Barefoot Experiment.

I am not a hippie.

Thank you.

A lavender cloud consumes half the sky
and casts a shadow over the lady
while her body lays in silence.
Eerie pink evening-colors dance on the faces of mourners
gathering in the dark chalet
waiting for puncturing sunbeams.

Suddenly my mind gave way to thousands of unanswered questions about the quality and worth of my life, the good of humanity and the relation between the two. I felt exposed, revealed as dirty and corrupt. I felt cruel, uncaring and fictitious. This accusation struck deep, in a place I've long felt nothing, it unwrapped ancient layers of certainty ( Read more... )

I don't want your tiny, fragile heart in my hands. At first glance this looked as if it were a perfect arangement. A boy, a girl, a sunny day, a bottle of wine. All the required ingredients to cook up the ultimate love story. I could even see the tragic ending, already budding, blooming in my imagination. A cadance so convincing sang this romance ( Read more... )

Good Band/Bad Wine

Old Boy/New Hair

Nice Voice/Sad Song

Warm Face/Cold Heart

because, as always, I was drunk.

A run around the sun isn't enough time for me to get my act together. The calendar needs to take a rest around the last minutes of May, it's always an unexpected transition between the 31st and the 1st. Suddenly it's a day before the one and only day i shouldn't be forgetting. 364 chances to screw up, and I don't even get it right once. An email ( Read more... )

An airplane, devoured by condesation, blind and bouyant.
Nowhere, longing for nothing left behind.
Previous bedfellows scattered cross-country.
Sixty-eight seasons stole sections of heart
Below lies a quilt, cotton faces sewn with cerebral thread.
Countless lives blink like dead stars.
Drip, fade, vanish.

( Read more... )