étude #14

some peanuts in the right pocket.

a straw hat on my head
still hiding the cynical smile
behind mustache and beard.

no more cigarettes.
alcohol? “yes please, you can always pour me some more”.

I never carry an umbrella,
they always break
under the gusts on the West side.

there is a hole in my right sole
(the foot just got wet)

a silhouette
of your pointy breast is still stuck in my mind.

a simple bouquet,
is peeking from my leather messenger bag.

(breaking my back)

on my way back.

soon I will see an old you.

I was becoming a quite blasé
to the new me.

and you?

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a girl with the pink hair

a girl with the pink hair
what are you doing this hour forlorn?
while you’re filling the void
in this air with a smell of a pee.

we’re riding same train,
sitting across.
whereas I am not Hungry Wolf
hence you’re not Red Riding Hood.

clanging wheels, ticking breaths,
flickering lights;
counting cravings that we could have
while musing on numerous nights.

the trending intentions we flourish,
the attempts to redefine our past.
the misunderstandings we cherish,
imploded anticipations we lust.

I saw all these reflecting
in the rainbow sunglasses you wear,
protecting your eyes from the throw backs
that you’re so afraid to bear.

the imaginary Pan Piper
is calling you out.
you will get out and I’ll stay confined,
facing the void you made.