So many nights to be drawn like China blue,
so many damn mountains to be ascended in trips of glowing joints,
so many women are to be brushed in ragged beds,
so many evenings are to be swept under far away numbness.
Who said you have to be alive to be broken?
Who said you have to be an asshole to be melancholic?
I see people only dwell in reflecting pixels…they live in metaphysics…they fuck in imagination and they die in prosperity…
I have stood on speeding vehicles, they made me feel most alive in their accelerations,
I have seen words to be formed as insane poems,
I have seen colours to be gathered in a procession to mourn for the suicide of Van Gogh,
I have seen black clouds over ignorant trees,
and I still feel like I haven’t seen anything.
I see homeless beauties implore for liquors in front of neon pubs and I think either most of the people aren’t what they show they are or the people who can change the meaning of freedom haven’t the power to change.
Well I have puked over most poems and I have slept under most inspirations…
I know how to show the gutters but I am not capable of cleaning those.

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Painting: Alexandra Sheldon.