in limbo

And when I want to write, my hands are not there ..

When I can write, my mind is gone.. and my attention blown to smithereens.

[Play]

I took a walk with another dear friend of mine,

Down from the Sâcré Coeur de Montmartre,

To the Gare du Nord where he had a train to catch..

From a majestic site above, down to a cradle of poverty and filth.

I walked with him to his train..

Then I was back on my way home..

I felt weird. I was hungry. I was empty.

I walked slow. My eyes were kind of blurry.

Soundwaves came vaguely and made no sense.

I was invisible. And the world alien through my lens.

Hmmm.. this was meant to be prose.

And obviously _ verses _

Is all my mind can now propose…

Sometimes, you stroll above the ground not feeling your lazy feet

Fail to dodge an army of cold eyeballs – wondering who they were

Walk on down streets of uncertainty – searching for yourself

In a city where you live – she doesn’t know who you are

Look at those people around you – faceless strangers

Feel the tickling smells of filth – foiling your breath

Your reflection in a mirror – but see another one

Think of a fading family – a nostalgic burden

Where are you going? Where are you going?

Where are you… ?

Are you going?

Are you?

Who?

When my fingers are ready to listen… my mind is gone.

When my ideas turf in, I am no longer present; I am alone.

The sounds of the world flush through my mind.

But my memory is asleep and my eyes are blind.

I talk like a zombie - I lie, I act, I pretend.

I am not here. Not here. I deceive, I blend.

These white eyeballs are tired pink.

Ivory teeth soaked in coffee black.

Rotating chairs and driving seats,

Have stabbed daggers down my back.

Keep looking for you in every hopeful look

In every flowery scene, in every romantic book

Time is running out, but my heart is dead stuck

Searching for an other you before it turns to rock.

I set my sails just after you – the eye of my perfect desires,

I keep creating, you, every time a new face, with all new fires.

And everything I do, everytime I wake up, every hurdle I jump,

Is my way of composing the unique inevitable path - that will show you up.

I may never find you, meet you, smell you, know you.

But I’ll teach myself, I promise, to keep my heart alert,

And determined to find you – and possess - and free - and adorn you.

~