Thursday, September 10, 2009

Clearance, for a fortune
And I stand here crooked.
Strangled by my earphone’s chords.
With the air of a psychedelic gnome
Burdened with my gaudy backpack
Full of memories of boredom.

Clearance for a fortune.
And restless colours on me.
Hitchhikers’ shoes on my feet
I walk the streets of this city.

Clearance for a fortune.
I make room for intoxications.
I join the crowd to celebrate
My power of buying distractions.

Clearance for a fortune.
Once I fought to stand straight.
I stretched my arms, loosened my tie
And nearly broke my neck.

Wednesday, September 9, 2009

Hating you has never been an option
Obligation you can say,
Out of silent hours I pass
Recursive games that I play.

My failures stink in my colourful moods,
In smoggy little chunks of pride.
I’m growing desperate everyday
In search of a corner to hide.

And yet you survive the glory
Of being loved and not being in,
I forge my lovesongs into incoherent hymns
For my lonely rituals of sin.