picture by @meriception

My days are starting to be the same. Fitted into the designed mold of the do-nothings and the feel-nothings.

I’m craving taste, not that of sugar or even less of cigarettes. I’m craving the life savour. When freedom breaches my hair, and happiness fills my lungs. …



Write me flowers;

For all they have in between

The seeds, the pollen and the green

Maybe stop at how the birds and insects interfere

Or just let it be at what the Men see

Love, apology and recovery.

Write me stories;

and tell me about them beauties

Beasts, heroes and big fantasies

Once upon time

They were in rhyme

Faith, hopes and prodigies.

Write me pictures

For all they hide in tiny pixels

the frames, the close ups and the angles

Let them be our serendipity

In thousands words they’ll construe

Beauty, loyalty and our shared dreams.

For now, I’ll just write you

what you mean to me

so us can be

all what we

could have been.





Strange familiar. I am the wandering spirit that lingered on after my body shell.