zebrasindenver

This world, in which we have been born is easy enough to live in,

if you have the right tools and are prepared to work quietly and speak softly.

But why?

The drum is here to be beaten, these words are here to be sung, and these feet that carry us that need to run and dance.

Let the music in, let it fill us and let us fill our cups to the brim and toast the music,

for the quiet life can bring no trouble, and the louder we scream the more trouble we invite,

but i say let it in, scream and let it all in and maybe, just maybe, trouble will bring its colleagues,

love, passion and pain,

then in this world we can live not alone but surrounded by the things that let us know that this is,

in fact,

our life.

Animosity and

conversations on confusion

betrayal of brothers

in this cold city.

Its like missing the sea

even though you have never swam

dive in

and have something to miss

It all happened so quickly

this fiesta

chaos and wine

tacos and tequila

so many pretty boys in love

loud singing to wake the neighbours

and a woman in my bed in the morning

what a fiesta

happy valentines

Wrapped in violet

wrapped in violence,

stop doing the dishes and kiss me violently,

let the violet fall and kiss me again violently,

unwrapped violet,

violence.

I don’t write this for you, you will never read it.

I won’t write this for me, as i don’t care for it.

I write this for those that will read it, for they might understand it.

As even i don’t understand this love, this confusion, this happiness.

Hahaha, we write this often, we laugh at each other, with each other,

could this be the purest love i have ever had.

With no need to fix these problems, as we wear them on our sleeves,

one cannot lie to their best friend.

I cannot hide from you as you judge me as just a friend,

but fuck me like a drunken lover,

oh the times we are having, honest and true,

 pity we are broken and neither of us holds the instructions of reassembly

but then again

aren’t these pieces more valuable as a mosaic than as the original image..?

Six months ago i used to pull these paint encrusted jeans on everyday,

Now they seem foreign and dirty, but not the good dirt i was accustomed to,

I find my brushes and my colours, my black and white sketch pens, i get lost.

How i missed canvas, nothing feels like it, i mix a sickly blue like skim milk, and surround him in it,

Then his skin goes on green and eggshell, the base is done, the setting is laid, it feels right,

I miss the paint, wash brushes and eat, tomorrow ill continue, i feel it creeping back, thank you.

Paint.

So last night passed well, I didn’t kiss you and you didn’t want me to,

I look at myself in the mirror and see your tragic face staring back at me,

Could they be right? are we the same person, the same god awful mess,

the same holy maelstrom of death, whiskey

and asthmatic mornings searching for a last cigarette to put us to sleep,

HahahHa, i do love you, i do, but i love myself to, so what is that worth? just a

good jest between two friends trying to cause a storm in these calm seas,

thats all, we’re bored and poking at our lives and of those that we share them with,

love without feeling, without the hurt of expectation, truth and nothing.

Ice on the ground and the phone booths are like frozen tombstones

its warm inside this bar, and our bellies are full of beer

the city glows a golden red like the alchemists doctrine

and we talk of novels like i do, we talk of japanese and russian writers

i think of no one and watch you serve your customers as you drink from my beer

i am happy, and you kiss me outside as we smoke our youth away

fuck everything you are doing to me, why kiss me, why talk, why be happy that i have been and will go before you.

You are a maelstrom of fuck you.

For many i am a friend,

for most i am a good man

for a few i am a lover

for two i am a son

and for one i am a wolf

but for you, i must be nothing but a memory.