#sleepless mornings

[eddiesofthetide-blog]

before those sleepless mornings you whispered words of affection you complained of my absence before those sleepless mornings you wanted all of me

you couldn’t get enough of me on those sleepless mornings your fingers, your lips searched me you held me close you painted me with your tongue on those sleepless mornings

something changed after those sleepless mornings maybe i snored too loud maybe i didn’t love you the way you wanted maybe you woke up too cold on those sleepless mornings

your whispers faded into nothing your complaints stopped you didn’t want me anymore after those sleepless mornings

you say it wasn’t my fault that it was you who changed but it happened on those sleepless mornings when you looked across the bed and wished you were alone

on those sleepless mornings i was safe i had a home and you were changing your mind

[ginger-cocaine]

Avevi detto che non ti saresti più dimenticato...

[tonesofprogress-blog]

Eyes Close at Dawn

Falling asleep now

to the torrent of rain drops

and birds of the morn

[puzzledforehead-blog]

two weeks of silence

I don't believe in silence being gold, mostly it's pure laziness. This time it's half and half. Call it a twenty something's crisis? No, laziness is not a crisis. The other half is still fulfilled with raw emotion rather than idle being and feeling that I haven't done enough, again contemplating that other part of idleness. Reason?

Possibly this: two weeks ago I saw a play in theatre festival Homo Alibi in Riga that asked what is the role of an artist. An old man replied - an artist is a beetle collecting shit and occasionally creating something wonderful out of it. My guess, that's how Infinite Jest came into being. A lot of ugliness meticulously observed by a craftsman and noted down. The frequent streams of consciousness are sometimes overpowering and making me to read the sentences twice or trice, seldom the grumpy me notes that some editing should be in place. Nevertheless, the richness of writing is elating and truly exercising one's mind. The slowness pokes my laziness in its wobbly tummy. I need some more muscles to finish this.

p.55