All of my best
(And worst) thoughts
Can be traced
Back to a foreign city
Where I walked the streets
Alone, at night

Now there were two of them
Separated between thousands
of read texts and timely
chats touched by sound
but not skin  
Awake in the others sleeping
Sleeping in the others awake  
Restless as they wait
Restless as they wait

"The secret of it all is to write in the gush, the throb, the flood, of the moment — to put things down without deliberation — without worrying about their style — without waiting for a fit time or place. I always worked that way. I took the first scrap of paper, the first doorstep, the first desk, and wrote — wrote, wrote…By writing at the instant the very heartbeat of life is caught.”

The river in me
                     exists.  
Its outflow of pour
drenches the gullies
makes moist
the sand that
graces your toes
I flow into your roots
strengthen your
                   capillaries
pump liquid gold
inside your veins
loving your flaws like
kintsukuroi
you piece me together
adorn my cracks
with powdered metals,
still loving them for
being broken
a longing
              quenched
I want you dripping
down my chin,
my thighs
when you rush through
me just like that,
the soothing aqua tempest
I have always
wished for

I have a fear of dying

With unwritten words
  still in my mind.....

Never put on paper
   there was never enough time....