Big names in fading lights,
tonight it rains but that's alright.
I'd like to wash the taste of your mouth
from my tongue.

Sex sells and you've sold out,
but you're not the only one...
two
three months from now
would you
remember me?

A colour correction and then there was light,
and when there was light we could see
and feel into the night

Sex sells and you've sold out,
but you're not the only one...
as well, too
I cast myself into the sea
the oil stains reflect
the neon shine of yesterday.

Old Flames.

Smouldering in a burnt forest with
three mosquitoes on my cigarette
one cooking.
Another in my coffee.
This is desolation
ash
mulch.
Womb.
Butterfly wings, swift currents...
Flutter of brown and blue,
a feeling akin to
when I
met

Yeah the feeling of
home.
Oh to be beautiful, and to die alone as well.

We still talk in your fathers dimly lit kitchen,
only now it's without the touching,
and I don't hold you in my arms.
It's more intimate now than it ever was before
with your illuminated smiles.
It's brighter,
now.

My brave new world.
Fleeting smiles,
hand holding, halting.
With
good-byes
not so good-byes behind.
Rays stain visions and raindrops feel
different
real.
Cracks in a yellow lined road divide choices,
coin flips,
emotions,
chances,
meetings
friends
home and
what could be.

Yugo

You've done amazing things,
and I KNOW that your life has been full of happiness and wonder.
You're so blind,
troubled,
lost.
I'd like to thank you for picking me up on the side of the road.
I'd like to thank you for showing me what kind of amazing life I could have.
I'd like to thank you for sharing with me what kind of man you have become,
and what kind of man I will not.
I may not have been able to help you,
but your memory will live on in the person I have become.
I told you in the car, "most people who pick up hitch-hikers have self esteem issues and they want to help people so they can feel better about themselves."
Maybe I did help you, in some small way.

I wish you could open your eyes and live.
I hope you can love your life.
It's worth it.
I respect you.
Respect yourself
or
Fake it, if even for the kids.

If I had a million dollars
I wouldn’t buy you a fucking thing
I would climb the nearest mountain
And I’d teach myself to sing
A song for you.
A song for you

If I had a million bricks
I would build you a home
And if I knew a second language
I would write you a Spanish poem,
You know that it’s true
It’s true

I’ll never have a million dollars
Would you still love me anyway?
I quite often pick you flowers
When I won’t be around to say
Good morning to you,
Good morning to you.

Steeped Dreams.

I liked your faded dress,
your worn out shoes,
and the way you stood in the center of the room
and I really was fond of the way that your eyes never left mine
even though there were so many people inbetween, in and out of the scene
I smiled right back at you,
for the longest moment
the shortest instant of forever ever
remminiscent
of that sailor's small living room, in a half desert
/The Beatles/
where we stared for so long.