I want you closer, even when you're hugging me so hard I can't breathe, I want you closer. You are every religion I've ever explored, every God I've tried to find. Everything I attach myself to cos I can't reach it, I'm left imagening, I'm left wondering. I love you cos nothing is as good as you an imagine it. If you were different, if I wouldnt have to wonder anymore, maybe you wouldnt be like art anymore, maybe you wouldnt be miracles and magic. You'd be just another fault in reality. Another perfect person telling everybody else how to live life, as if there's only one way.   There is not only one way.

I figure the day I'll be at peace I wont be scared of dying. I would love nothing more but to give my imagination of a mind to the answers of religion and faith. What simple life it would be to know deep down what awaits. Peace has to be the strangest stranger to fear. I'd let religion take me, lift me up and steel my worries, but rain would find a way fall on this still peaceful river to give me waves of shades, hiding in the heavenly light. There is this desire beyond answers and logic. A feeling, a sent. Peace is not to figure out the mystery, it's to accept it. Truth in honesty. A feeling, a breeze. Peace comes from within, I've heard. Peace is everywhere, it's already resting inside of us, it has nothing to do with tradition or history, only will and understanding. God, whatever that may be, is in kind hearts and kind hearts are greater than any death or tragic. Therefor the great mystery that we feel, smell and breath, is love. The very worn out word that makes us. The mystery is how the hell all of the loving love feelings can fit in our tiny bodies. We should be wales floating in the sea, there is no logic in love. There is no answer to the mystery. There is nothing to do but to accept this and make peace with the limit of our imagination. To be a strange stranger to the fairest of fears. To love love love as big as wales and and deep as oceans.  

He said to me ”I'd like to be free.” A short question, a deep desire and some hope hiding in his pocket. An Indian summer and bare feet. With half a smile on his face, I understood him. I knew him, without knowing. Heavy boots like me, heavy with dreams and complexes. Heavy with effort and long lost love. Heartaches, but no regrets. Just difficulties living for the moment. He was an old dreamer who saw his life but felt apart from it. Bittersweet, a bleeding diamond. I guess the happy ones are fools for smiles. Drawn to white lies and influence. And there we were, loving our burdens, longing for truth and provoking art. Facing ourselves as we were, naked. Freedom would be kind enough to come, but we don't welcome it. We're praying for millions without buying lottery tickets.

 

 

 

 

 

And there were moments, like when I was watching TV and he carefully lifted up my thin top to reveal my pale belly. He stoke it gently as if I was made of glass, then he gave a slow kiss and said I was beautiful. Or like the mornings when he was tired and I was talking too much, he would give me a little kiss on the lips instead of saying shut the fuck up honey. Or like when I used to wake up to see him looking at me, lingering there in the moment for a while and then jump out of bed, get dressed, run out the door with his morning hair and come back, after leaving me confused, with pain au chocolate and croissants and all kinds of things from the bakery. Or like when someone called and he would speak French on the phone, I wouldn't understand but it was magical. Or like when I was pissed at him for being stupid and how he didnt have time to say sorry before we met his friends so the hole night he would give me small chocolate bars every now and then that he had taken with him, he would smuggle them in my pockets, and how I couldnt stay mad cos I love chocolate so much. Or like when we were watching this movie, he would lean his head against my shoulder or lay hes hand on my thigh as soon as we burst out in laughter as if he wanted to show me somehow how much he loved the moment we were in. Or like how I waited a full year for him to say he loved me and when he said it he seemed nervous and honest even though I knew he'd said it many times before. Or like when he hugged me so wonderfully hard cos I was crying when I missed him cos he was working so hard. Or like when he kissed me for the first time and we sat at the same place with our lips not leaving each others for more than 2 hours cos we didn't wanna stop, we didn't ever wanna stop. Or like when he stopped smoking and turned into this sex God that just couldn't get enough of me. Or like when he got me a christmas tree cos I'm such a christmas freak. Or like when he had the fever and asked me to come just to hold him. Or like when he took me to a funfair and we were shooting balloons together, and he shot mine in secret so I would win the monkey that I wanted and how mad I was at him for doing it for me. Or like when he picked me up in a taxi at 2.00 in the morning just to sleep next to me for a few hours before I had to go to work at 7.00. If having had all of that, how can you keep yourself from wanting so much more of it?? It's like cleaning your emotions the same way you clean your body from drugs that made you feel like you were on the top of the world once. Above anything you could ever imagine feeling again.