I carry the ink which carries me to unknown lands. And while I condemn violence, I shot a gun. Five bullets, missed the man. It is a dangerous concept, this pedestal. The height, and then the sinking. With nobody to unravel you. Save the blue angels who always watch.
I met two in the mirror One was the me I know but she was a ghost She looked beyond me as I watched her and realized she is my body and I am her soul
Night removes something from me. She gives but steals too much. When I become one with the night, and whilst I stare inside the moon, it feels like staring into you. Do you watch her too?
I am not so abstract. I wear distinct personas for a night like I wear this smile. Pretending to be anybody else. To forget the child within me.
I am not like the wind. I am not made of spirits, the angels. I know nothing. Your eyes are the eyes of a cat. Eyes make me soft. They bear a knowingness.
Awaiting a wanting. A need. This desire for a golden soul and a lover who speaks my name like it is gold. While I miss my homeland. Or maybe you will take me back, and watch me cry as my feet and eyes and soul reunite with Jerusalem.
Longing lasts more than love A fantasy which outweighs myself whispers to the forgotten egos of everything I am not