Tunnel vision

I walked the streets not a care in the world
I walked the streets suddenly colliding with my old self
Colliding with my old self uncapable of ignoring it
Colliding with everyone else’s happiness when mine had went missing for what seemed forever
Colliding with the fact that life isn’t the same anymore and change isn’t always for the best and you’re not the same anymore
I walked the streets not a care in the world
For months
I walked the streets and I couldn’t hear the birds twittering in the trees
I couldn’t see the sun set on the sea
I couldn’t feel the soft salty air in my hair
because I was going through a tunnel and the end was never approaching and the connection was bad so I couldn’t hear a thing
And the end was never approaching
Making my way through the dim yellowy light
I wanted the tunnel to end
So I walked the streets, not a care in the world
I walked the streets ignoring the cars running by
Ignoring every warning sign and every loving sign
I walked the streets not strong enough to kill myself
Hoping someone else would do it for me.

I have waited.
But they never did.

What we have

What we have

What we have
is a thing of beauty
I don’t believe in God
but I do believe
if there was a God
we would be God’s will

What we have
may or may not
be eternal
yet for now
I feel like eternity
is ours

What we have
is nothing complicated
nothing perfect
What we have,
all we have
is full of flaws and complications

What we have
is the best I’ve had
it’s all I want
all I’ll ever want
and I’ll never ask you
for anything more than you can give

What we have is love
and love only

Je ne voyais plus clair

je me languis d’amour
aimez-moi, j’en meurs
mon corps veut chaleur humaine
et ma tête, beaux mots
dans la carence
l’instantané me guide
je palpe, je flatte, j’embrasse
viens dans mon lit
me donner de l’amour pour une nuit
dit que je suis belle
que mon corps allume
des incendies
l’amour est une chose
le désir en est une autre
mais dans la carence
l’instantané me guide
et confonds toute chose

Grisaille d’un samedi soir

Grisaille d’un samedi soir

Une goutte de pluie en cette journée grise
flocon perdu dans la tempête
grain de poussière dans l’Univers
gringuenaude, insignifiance
rien de plus, rien de moins
que presque rien
pauvre existence sans conséquences
qu’un brin d’énergie
qu’un corps sur Terre, qu’un corps en terre
un de plus, un de moins
où est la différence
la plage restera belle
et le désert cruel