They wander lost, my old lovers
In the misty streets of my memories.
Bleached bones of the skeleton
That is my love life.
When I walk at night
By the side of a lonely street
They stand, wet and shivering
A cold look in their hard eyes.
I have failed so often
That failure has become
My eternal and only lover.
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About Me
- roberto kiam borderlineartist@gmail.com
- I live in a quaint, little town, plagued with the specter of speculation and commerce. I am trailer trash,with wishes for good dishes. I shoulda died long ago, but like a rescue dog, didn't. I am indescribably scattered. I speak three languages. I walk a tenuously, true path. I am lucky. For myself, for others. God, it is said, protects orphans, widows and the innocent.
1 comment:
Maybe you could look at them from a different viewpoint, and discover then, by looking at the past from a hill, that they're getting tiny, remote, but still, they still, have something to teach? Maybe you're already on a successful path, and just don't see it, as you're stepping on it. But yes, it's so much easier to give up, huh? I've always thought it's easier to give than to receive. We have been so much conditionned to think that nothing comes without effort, that when something pops up, we think, what's the trick here? and we wait for the disaster.Instead of enjoying what we have.
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