To compare the mother sea against a bubble and against all of her foam. To even talk about the sand and ice of the dark seas of nebulae. To confess the curative effects of beer on my feelings about my reasons to be. If there is one, and about my performance or my lack of. To tell my love I’m still in love and always will be, normal interruptions in between. This blog is for
I guess this is the appropriate time To confess I’ve searching my whole life The multicolor and intermittent lights That illuminate the world’s top At yearend at a place where cold Cannot go deeper inside bones Without passing to the other side
So absorbing is my searching That I haven´t found time To accumulate nothing
While I’m writing this I’m surprised how easy I’ve denied myself my love share While searching for Santa’s place Inside city’s guts & marrow bone
