Viva

But perhaps the closest I can be

is to drink on ether in a red cup

held just so lightly

and watch green clouds in a glass sky.

And hope.

Only hope that my existence comes to life

in the crimson of your half awake eyes.

No meters, no rhyme, Mircea

are the loves you love.

Mircea, Mircea, Mircea.

Cotton candy in the sky

Just like good times have faded in to tinted memories, so will not sit the hard days. If it rains tonight, it will be summer again. There will be whispers and sweat and difficult loves to love. There will be blue waters and breaths of charm and a new season of old love.

Empty handed

But a heart-ful. Should've spent tonight writing. Should've started watching South-Park much earlier in life.