Sunday, January 30, 2011


Hope for tomorrow
comes with a price to pay: today.

Now is filled with empty moments.

Soft Icelandic music
plays while I stare at the page,
the wall,
your eyes,
the window,
the door,
your eyes,
the screen,
the keys,
your eyes,
my hands,
my feet,
your eyes,
my phone,
my pills,
your eyes,
the light,
the fridge,
your eyes.

You could say I'm obsessed with beauty.
Her beauty, his beauty, our beauty,
and the beauty of your eyes.

It's like being restless, looking anywhere else.

So I look again to remind me
of when you were near.

Then, I tear out the page
and let my mind clear.

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