In the presence of the demise of my heart. All of what I used to feel suddenly don't feel so real.
Being sold dreams out the back of a Porsche. I'm looking sideways because this don't seem real.
I keep my nose clean now for the sake of being seen as weak when it all falls down.
When it all falls down, yeah I remember that song. I told you my heart. I told you.
Everyday I think of you in many ways.
I get it, get it, I get it.
But isn't there still some type of connection?
Eye, never seen such beauty of a human being
With my own until you entered, stage right
A deep luscious brown swirling of the seeing
Eye I am peering into
Burning sensation of not wanting to blink
Afraid of missing steps ahead of you
Mister, smell of sweet cognac mixed with freshness
Mother Nature would swoon under your perfume
Let the world bloom from your essence
Smile at the knowing of who you are
Stand tall in front your presence
Extending to touch, the touch of such
| It was cold At the crem Where my mother lay Cold and dead I thought of the times When I could have gone I should have gone Over to the cold Dark house By the moor To spend an hour At most Before she tired And dropped away For good I didn’t ask the questions I should have gone To ask I was cold In the crem Where my mother lay Cold, now dead |
All pain has already
The sharp pages
Of her presence
Cut his fingers
With each turn
That blood
Is the ink
In which their
Future is learned
Previously published on Twitter (@van_decaf)
Walking along Beach Street with rain drizzling on my head
Money’s freed you, fish, from knife-cut trials,
A story that’ll fill all fish and fowl with gratitude.
So, Bon Voyage! The Yangtze swells for countless miles,
Go swim at ease to peaceful latitudes.
Around the building throughout the day,
These joyful guests convene on beams
With songs that carry auspicious signs,
Arriving through the curtained screens.
Sunset guides them down to town for rest,
But dawn will draw them to the river streams,
Until they reach the swans assembled together,
Watching them soar, as in a phoenix dream.
Original Chinese poem by Li Jiao
