Saying to much
Nonetheless
Remaining honest 
Although refraining from saying what should be said

The endless internal debate 

Just like smiling when I did not fully understand what you just said
Just like thinking that I would love it if you could gently help me unzip my dress

Jut like hoping you won’t be bored of me just yet.

again, thank you rosalie. 
something sweet,
like cakes shaped in skulls and black opals.

give it a listen, or two.

I have to stop listing the thoughts
That stream
And surrender to the moments that
Are ment to
Uplift

The best in me

I breaded you just right
Tamed you in the right place 

Now that the windows over look each other
And the persona you are accustomed to
Is morphing 

Which reflection
Will you fade/fall 

Into 

I throw myself to the new words
Instead of revising
The old ones 

All of them remain, over used

Your curtain cover half the window

And my shirt is a little bit too white
to be able to compensate
for the lack of a bra 

And your glasses clearly cannot compensate
for your lack of subtlety 

At least half the window is covered. 

Why does home seem so small
Would it be cliché
To add a reference to nyc right about now
And mention how
Cliché it is

p; marie jane 

Hunting words down,
Gasping for air
Faces older, and old. 

Empty new room
Full of
Thoughts of what it might become
Yearning for associations. 

I should just read a book. 

Being unproductive 
and cady for your ears.

waiting for stephanie naday to prepare us a little suprise, a playlist of wonders.
meanwhile enjoy, and waste your time searching just because its glorious, 
I promise I wont be more productive than you, I will just sit amongst my books on my floor and dream of brooklyn, pear in hot chocolate and crystals/fossils.