You know, when I get too much of wind over my eyes, I think of you. 

I drink for nights…like before, I drink for nights, 

no, not for you. 

I have never been drunk for anybody…

That’s too mine. 

I would rather sit and watch the highway, carrying you…

Your parts in trucks…swimming away in glittering cry. 

Still filling the cities with breathless matchsticks…like before, still keeping shits in cities…

I still get girls with free sexuality and I still don’t kiss them…when you were there, I never kissed them. 

When I look through the windows I still try to remember you…

How can I forget, 

you taught me how not to be suicidal by writing poems. 

That has been a serene practice since then, 

but that means till the day I will be writing specks of poems, I will remain this suicidal asshole.