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When busy painting
I often use a language that's misunderstood...
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I let my worries fall into water
my body leaning against my favorite tree...
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Trees are shedding
lifeless leaves...
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As we are facing the forth semester of the year
I am slowly wrapping up my last nine months...
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This is not a spark from any fire,
It is not a play or a devious trick of light...
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Is there an angel on my shoulder?
One that's keeping me alive...
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Going through the motions
Trying to get the past back...
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I close my eyes and I'm back there again.
Same blue cotton sheets...
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Languid lament becomes all that we know,
Or could this be a reason to fight back...
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I feel as of late
restless of life...
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A Different World
In other realms to most unknown...
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Do you ever lay awake with me on your mind?
do you ever think of what we would've been...