Last Song

Gin dripping in my wounds, It were the good times whom never existed. But yet, I will sing my last song for you in all of the pain that haunts me. It is the last breath my dying heart will catch for you.. …. I will sing about the hurt, the time when I couldn’t

Type Machine

You can’t seem to fix your faults, You can’t seem to delete them. But you want to miss them. . The things you said were thrown away like the torn, used and failed writings you wrote on paper. . Your words are not useful anymore. Your faults can’t fix themselve: Just like a typemachine.

Sweet Love

I will keep you save, I will turn my gaze; of love only to you. . I will hold you anytime, I ask you to remind, the way I embrace you. . I will share you in my heart, I caress you with each soothing song for every emotion apart. . I catch you, I

Delicate

You close your eyelashes, so tender in their many eye flashes. The way how you taste the humanity that surrounds you and you discover it. I know that it’s true when people say it’s delicate…

2 AM

The clock will tap into the death hour of night, I’m getting enough of this horrible fright I’m living in.. . Tears are splashing on my cheeks like the wine that longs for a hopeless seek. . But I will never ever get addicted to one of my old habits again. It’s not a pleasement

Rain Keeps Falling

The rain keeps falling, last summer, are you coming back with your usual warmth we then had? and now I´m still calling for it. . My white socks are drenched because of the rainy water, the sudden white clouds I’m yearning for with the hope of a possible beautiful weather, with a blue sky too,

I Do Anything

I do anything to keep your rising body against mine, Just to feel it. In this lonely hour I can’t sleep quiet, I toss and turn around; without any kind of sleep I have found. The usual whispering of the love we share and we listen; coming and radiating from our bodies. I don’t see

Crashed Down On The Pavement

I taste the astringent dirt of cigarettes. My lips are nailed down into the pavement. My skin is torn with her many layers, to the deepest of my flesh; within. The blood is streaming out of my wounded hands. Yes, I’m wasted, so wasted. in this situation of losing you. . Yes, of course. I

Cold Evening In September

Red, purple and blue knuckels, cold hands tingling because they’re close by the fire, the warmth that snuggles within me, it causes an unexplainable desire. Yes, it is a cold evening in September.  But I don’t mind. . My lungs are breathing in the air of coal spreaded into the sky in its whole.  Yet

Lips Ripping Off

In the dead of night, I didn’t expected bloodly streams shivering in my fright. The endless streamings from my lips, In this lonely hour . The blood; Again; I’m afraid to shallow. Of course, it happens every time. And everything hurts in my nerves.. .. Yes, I feel my lips are getting ripped off they’re