i miss you

i miss you
but i haven't met you yet
so special
but it hasn't happened yet
you are gorgeous
but i haven't met you yet
i remember
but it hasn't happened yet

and if you believe in dreams
or what is more important
that a dream can come true
i will meet you

i was peaking
but it hasn't happened yet
i haven't been given
my best souvenir
i miss you
but i haven't met you yet
i know your habits
but wouldn't recognize you yet

i'm so impatient
i can't stand the wait
when will i get my cuddle?
who are you?

i know by now that you'll arrive
by the time i stop waiting

i miss you

-bjork, "i miss you", in "Post"

Kerouac1

"The one thing that we yearn for in our living days, that makes us sigh and groan and undergo sweet nauseas of all kinds, is the remembrance of some lost bliss that was probably experienced in the womb and can only be reproduced (though we hate to admit it) in death. But who wants to die? In the rush of events I kept thinking about this in the back of my mind. I told it to Dean and he instantly recognized it as the mere simple longing for pure death; and because we're all of us never in life again, he, rightly, would have nothing to do with it. I agreed with him then."

- J. Kerouac, On the Road, p.112

Pretty Faces

Faces were never meant to be heavy
Even in this puzzle of who-knows-who-chronologically
Or situations that were meant to be funny
Why do you always all of a sudden turn elderly?
Perhaps it wasn’t meant to be, or
Perhaps it has always been about the bird and the bee
But that doesn’t mean that every other scenery
Would have to be subject to your cruellest sympathy
For it is most unwise to neglect to stop and see
Even in your little game of endless far-car-dee

corridor2

when neon tubes line the

distributed drains of your corridor

love’s calendar has stopped

squarely on the 48th day

banishing my moistures

from the drought of your pores

i am the loiterer, blinded by the

signposts, and wetting your floor

with all our sands, now grey

corridor1

down the corridor, you realize that parking footwear effectively needs not just sketched-out lots or almost-sacred spaces to perform the ritual of flinging divine invitations to deities, but like in temples, it also requires the calibrated histories of detaching soles from slipper, or shoe, before entering to offer worn-off cells or hardened skin as sincere smoke and ashes to many of its heavenly fathers remaining firmly on earth

corridor1.2

sweeping flightpaths and corridors, footwear is effectively parked not just with shapely sketched lots or gesticulated sacred spaces to perform the ritual of flinging divine invitations to deities, but like in grand temples of jetsetting, it also requires the calibrated histories of detaching soles from slipper, or shoe, before entering to offer worn-off cells or hardened skin as sincere smoke and ashes to the heavenly fathers who remain firmly in the checked-in rooms on earth