patience

o mi angel. have mercy on my hours of sleep .
what was i thinking, after a long long day out and about , i went back to my home, i tried to ran against my lung , to be back where it's warm, to be back in time not to miss your voice one last time before i feel everything , new again, but not the same, it's crazy to grow up even in the distance ,i remember this lady who told me we communicate with the missing ones the way we talk on the phone, but the words are always blury , but you speak clear to me , but we are hungry. for more then just words.
hard to believe when you think of myobsession with words, because i use to be able of everyhing in the writing i did, but to act on my desire , was another story not well written ago. but i could not truly explain that story . one day i will.. and i'll live , for now , the way some will see throug glass. i broke mine.
i am alone , but i can't feel alone right now,i should be doing all the responsible things i have to do before i leave , piratery of my little superchery in this city .
i tought for real i was going where no one knows about the old me. not that i want to become somebody else, but i want to change , enough to feel it in my body. but o o funny apparently i am already known. and again by people assuming something they don't even understand. i'll have to leave with my o so precious words; the innocent , they can all kiss my ass. sideways 'what the fuck shall i do , care really , nope, i am busy with caring when will i next be able to sit on the grass without freezing . when will it feel goood to be onmy future balcony smoking an dwhyskey , withourt 8 layers thick . maybe sooner cuz it almost feel like i'm going souther. in a city not as good as montreal. but still i'll manage fast enough to find her credit. she actualy have credits enough for me to run there like a thief , well i am a thief in here . in this city i find love , i want to give some too. there is better milkshakes then here, and more water to look at, look with...
so finito living with absent roomate at her first flat, tryingto understand that papier cul is not something that only comes with santa claus . and my new soon to meet roomate. an older woman then me, that spell herself in an 'ezzzz goin''' .. and i'm sure ez-goin is mor efor me then hysterical student or party kids. ha ah ha , party kids, why don't i call myself one, cuz these days are party kids pretty often the ones to get wired on chemicals and pill popping , and if ever i try to follow them in there journey to psychedelik something ! well i'm doomed because i'll consume 5 times more then they do and still look like i have ha the sweetest coffee in themorning , and the more and more i go , on and on , i know for sure i like quite better the way i feel when i've slept sober and get to sip my espresso without any muscle feeling like the dreams have been violent enough to remember .

so o.k . i will not start on my anatomy analysis of the drugs i know. i care not , one day i just want to completely stop. and get stone on coffee . and ice cream.

2;51, i am looking a little at the window in case i would see you . if the time treats my dreams so right you should walk the door in less then 10 minutes, but it could be longer , that's o.k . it is o.k. to wait some more, if i remember how it felt for a week to craze your eyes , your hands, your self. while talking on the freaking phone, your voice sometimes changing in this way , when i only wanna hold you . but i felt li ethrwing the pillows by my window, and listening loud to Palace brothers. but i kept the pillows, there good pillows. writing here now is the only way to spare time. i fel a tiny little disapointed in me , i wanted to be so awake , and ready to run stable with you , but when the night should have ended last night i got awake and cleanes the way my father use to do when he was worried thinking too much . so it's clean but i slept only , barely 3 hours, wich makes me a little lot lazy. but it's o.k. just tell me it's o.k. i feel o.k. .
i am waiting for you to make more coffee, you might even bring some cream, i have honey . it's driving me crazy goo di have such thin walls all i hear the door every 5 seconds, wrong door, the only good doors are the ones you open.
i cannot believe i can stil sing noir desir after all the smokes i had, wine , scotch and name it. my hands refuse to stop typing until i see you . . i want nothing else.
not now. later maybe we;ll need food, and maybe sleep.
i feel so calm, wel the way i somehow am nervous but don't even realize it .
so calm but now i see , soon i'll feel how soon i am leaving , all the work i have to do, all the people i love, i want to see them , to keep the alive in my mind, some of my fried si know already it has notbeen the last time i'll see the in a while , but i miss them already , when i walk on vanhorne on my way to Tom, alteha y company i feel so much home, in the streets i don't really go out to coffee shop, whne i do i step out to fast in the cold that it becomes pointless. o.k. so you should be there but the subway is slow, maybe your driver felt like timmy every 30 minutes.

i want stop the writing , i could say anything , everything , change subject and talk about it all, my life or the life i saw down the street when i saw this older men loking so alone waiting for the bus to take him home ,but even home ! home is in the souvenirs he kept in the far stop , there in teh back of his heart . one is nowhere else but in you . home is in the peole you see , the people that loves you , when their eyes are reflective mirrors of who yo are .

to be continued