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.