Cigarettes After Sex
1. I asked her if she liked, Cigarettes after sex, She said, “Ufff, I hate smoking” I said, “Wow, Slow down girl, I’m asking about the band” She laughed at the way, I twisted my words, With double meaning, Like a blue devil. 2. I had painted in her mind, A picture of us smoking, After potentially having sex, But she hated smoking, And she might hate the sex as well, I thought to myself, But that won’t be anything new, Would it? All there remains is Despair, As an answer to the existential dilemma. 3. We made mad love that night, Without strings attached, And we had a lot of “Cigarettes after Sex”, Before, during and after it. 4. Bukowski was right, Poetry is what happens, When nothing else can happen, When all you can do, Is to try to melt your submission, Inside...
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“Isolation is the gift. All the others are a test of your endurance, of how much you really want to do it” Bukowski I been isolated in my room for ten days straight now, without a single world coming out of my mouth. I text, occasionally, just to remind myself that I still know the words and that the world, outside of my room, is still spinning, just the same. Here inside though, the clock has stopped. At 01:00 p.m. on a November Monday, just like that. I woke up one morning, and nailed the thickest cover I had on the window. Yeah, that probably means that I’m going to have to pay something extra, by the time I’m going to move out, but at least I’m going to live here, in my terms. No light from outside is going to enter. It’s...
Read MoreLife roads!
I was right back then. Remember? I told you that all that will remain will be the memory of the time we loved. I thought deeply about it, that night. Looking into the distance from the 9th floor window, I knew it was over. I had spent all day looking at the ashes you left behind, together with the faded lipstick on the remaining filters of the cigarettes you smoked, wondering about the meaning of everything. We had screamed “forever wild” many times, walking under the moon light, but only now I understand the meaning. You called me “Mr. Moon”. You knew how much I loved our night walks. I lived for them. 8 years is a long time. I’m man enough to admit that sometimes I think about you. Where are you now? Are you lost? It seems like you never found a way out of my...
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