23/04/2015
soon, oh soon the light
in a mere 30 years
all those that knew us
will be dead as well
so as we grow older
no news is tellworthy any longer
for we see the true world now
our fates but nothing
so nothing is new
and what matters
is now
and what we leave behind
perhaps, if we can
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Superheated air streams in Through the driver-side window as I burn the car Across the blistering heat, exhuming Ian Curtis's Pompeian ...
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all conveivable tomorrows burn their bright spears into right now right here how to disentangle love and hopes?
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single pidgeon in the distance of boundless grey suburban skies. sombreness dememoritised
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erratic echoes of a swallow's cries faint and shrill, lost midget amid the persian blue vault of turquoise and gentian tiles, pool...