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never is a promise

>> Wednesday, January 19, 2011



















i look back secretly for i hate offending you
and i behold no footprints only unsettled dust
descending like meteors, beginning of the end
so i dream of what (i think) i have not become.

we're past kilometre zero, but where is here?
i lost myself a while back, sorry i have to ask
i see hundreds of signposts but no destination
why do you let me suffer crashing into ghosts?

cursed, there is no turning back the doors are shut
tell me, should i go forward despite the blindfold?
decide while my hands read the graffiti on the wall
someone was here on the first day after i was born

alas my friend, i am now but stale coffee, insipid
please empty the rusty cup and let me become rain
at least i am something from where there's none
certainly a gift for whom not a day was promised


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