a journey. too much.

we tend to imply too much
the reading of your coffee cup does not lead you to love
darkness comes only when you switch off the last lamp in your new york loft
we never think it’s possible, so please forget about
how you want to or not want to dance tonight

clubbing till late, we all get cozy and sweaty
beats soften your limbs, my heels just accidentally run onto your right foot

“i’m sorry” is nothing but a simple apology
i utter it out, but then i find your toes
melted into the ground like chocolate on the hot beach

you laugh so much that i can’t surpass your face and
voices, so i follow your clumsy steps, keeping up
dancing like night never falls and day never

can we remember the drink we have that night? tell me
if you still remember any joke you tell me
as we are so radically trashed and vulnerably

what do you believe and what do you see—
in this crowd? do you see you? do you see me? do you see
the traffic out in the street?

don’t make it up for me
i still try to picture
the place i haven’t been

these flashes and those dreams continue
a journey

can we film it? can we be certain tomorrow we will know the world in the way
as we know today? I try not to take off this train
in winter, in gray


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