After a hundred years,
I've decided to write again
because those years were dull.

See, I know you, don't think I don't
those intelligent papers won't fool anyone.
Tie your shoes and run the mile,
after which we will share a drink again.

my head is filled with conversations

it's full.
lets meet later,
i need to tie up the threads together. 

WATER

WATER, WAter, water.
it flows downstream.

look

no grown up talks here.
k.

letters are like feathers

Peacock feathers are book markers,
Quentin Tarantino's a rich soul,
Red sand boxes are quite old,
Stanley's a queer brick,
Teletubbies are weird freaks

dusty dreams

take me to bed, tangled in mops.
these chores are tiring.

but also yes.

ramble,ramble,ramble, it's my favorite word, i use it all the time. 

these shoes of mine has given in,
after just a quick run to the bridge
that stretches over the water
where the ships are.
kicking them to the side
i jump,
in the direction
of the harbour.
then it hits me;
i never learnt how to swim.

a star fixed in the sky

is not the one i'm looking for.
in fact i'm not looking up above at all.
i'm on the ground, staring at the stones,
the dirt and taking in the smells,
storing them in my memory.
then a walk to the pub
to lose the memory
again.

the day i leave home
i'll never look back.
the place i come from
will serve as a memory
that has no hold on the air around me.
fade way, far away
the ghosts are,
far away from my fresh dreams
every new day, a fresh entry.

sand

i love the sea,
she feels empty,
she seems lost,
she collects sand and shells
in her skirt and lets them go,
a little further than before.