Walker

He's the person that would sacrifice crossing the biggest distances in the world just to spend a minute by her side, yet nobody ever saw this.
With fluffy hair like the one you find on a rat terrier, he dances and stumbles and makes people laugh.

I once laughed around him, and nowadays i just sit next to him while looking for a little bit of comfort, we reminisce of the past but most of all of the future that hasn't yet come to us "when does humans relationships became so hard? did i lost the touch?" he asks away, and i always smile trying to give him a bit of relief, "no, i guess the good ones are always taken right away" we laugh, i cut open little round danish breads, so golden and soft, i fill them up with gouda cheese and they go to the oven where they melt until it starts looking like candle wax.

We had cake, we had jelly, we had long years of friendship, we just had another night, the kind we always had and the ones i hope to always have anywhere.

2am, 3am, None i am

There's no clock ticking after all.
I miss that tick tock, sounding always as a constant in the wrist, in my head.
It reminded me of the silence, the tick tock is always stunning when there is no other sounds, just like the endless nights of an insomnia that were never one, just like owls don't drink energy pills when the night starts arriving.

sigh, i wonder why does the piece inside seems to work more properly at night,
nothing to actually find at the moment, art, art, art or what i feel as art.
nothing, art as feelings i suppose.
dreams of dogs, dreams of distant people, romanticizing the solitude.
black and white and film and more art and more me.
i must be in love with myself, with my fat self, with my thin self, with my head, with the heavily orange of a sun that is harsher than a piece of coal that was just burnt in the fire to cook the cows that others wont eat, but my dogs will devour.

i ramble, where is the sandman,
i'll be your lady.