This man
who speaks different toungues
and wears many faces
shimmering, eyes sparkling,
lush hair and a passion in the air.
This man
talented in so many ways
yet of which i have never met
but oh, how much i wish i had.
the sadness i bear of not having
communed with this lovely mind
accompanied by a sense of uselessness...
I cannot show my face to this man.
he overpowers me with his talent,
his beauty, his mystery...
December 23, 2003
DEAD TIRED
My head tilts to one side,
feeling heavy and drained
my eyes repeaditly shut and open
into a state of half consciousness
and i ask myself:
why do i resist for such nothingness?
The election starts between my bed
and a white sheet of paper, empty,
waiting to be written on...
my bed, waiting for my weight...
such weaklings are we
to be daily exhausted
and how numb of us
to leave our papers untouched
I am tired, yet i resist
to leave a sign of life on paper
but nothing comes out...
everything is silent, dark, dead
I have lost all my energy
and now i must retire, shorty,
to be left unaccomplished.
December 23, 2003
