when the rare occurence
of shooting stars gliding along the clouds
and the dark blue-black of the night,
my only wish is for that star
to bring my heart closer to yours
in hopes that
i could return the happiness
that you have given me.

i've been living my tomorrows
all my life
that i forget
that today still has its hours.

Am I actually in love
Or am I just addicted

we run and run
through the spotlights
under the street lamps
and the trials of what is yet to come.

you and i have gone a long way:
you were there when the girl who
first stole my heart
had shared a milkshake on
red leather seats,
and when the same girl left
without me
after paying her bill.

the night is young,
our neighbors are nowhere but in the land
that their heads paint as they sleep;
you and i become artists of the sidewalks and
the rough concrete.

we leave our mark.

"long live the thieves of the street."

how could all these masters
of art and vision
of poetry and of prose
of love and of passion
of life and of death
create so seamlessly,
create things that matter to others?
how could they have ideas
streaming from their minds,
and translated into beautiful things
that need not ask to be noticed?
i'd like to think it was because
they worked with heart
but why is it that even if my heart is screams
with all the things i want to share
i try to paint
i try to sketch
to write
to sing little songs
they never come out quite right
or matter to anyone else?
why is it that my heart
with all its storms and whirlwinds
never seems to be enough
to create something beautiful?

It passed midnight when i took my medicine
Life has been treating me bad lately
I reached for my phone on the right side of my pillow
Blood was racing inside my cells,
no wonder i'm over anxious all the time
I swiped unlock,
went through my phone storage
In minutes i'm about to puke,
the world was sickening me out

I stopped upon this picture
of the guy who owns 4 piercings on his left ear
The helix one is my favorite
I giggled to the screen
Feeling familiar with the warmth he got on that curvy lips
The tension was chilled a bit—
as i entered my own little world
I felt my brain slowly turned into confetties

It passed midnight when i took my medicine
As every cells on my body
Praised him our favorite love song—
thanked him
For being the most effective way of healing