Once I leave this place… the only thing I’ll be leaving are fingerprints on memories and other spectral surfaces.

I am that ghost (in the most literal sense) walking in all white through city streets with soft lips and heart beats.

What I never grasped was the idea of living here forever. The city was filled with people, but most seem to wander.

I don’t believe in celestial beings and other shadows, but I’m starting to worry that my body will decompose

And the matter of my soul will continue to walk the earth in constant agitation and denying the state of sataition.

The Polish Man With the Japanese Ink

Love is for dreamers
At least that’s what I’ve come to realize,
Through rough kisses and warm sheets.
Love is for dreamers
Who can lose themselves is deep sighs
And soft cooing between touches.
Love is for dreamers
And those who forget the reality of distance
And time… along with other things.
Love is for dreamers
Who find deeper meaning in fucking
And biting and squeezing.
Love is for dreamers
Not for me, not for the girl who’s afraid of falling asleep.