look ..

i saw it on your chest , and i cutted slowly the letters, et puis comme ca le chat .. est apparu.

lentement nous irons tous au bois...

soon, we're all still in the city , and i havn't been exploring as much as i should, but there is people arround and things to do. dumpster diving is now amn olympic competition before q10 starts up, i like that the days are counted, i need fresh air. outside is a junk land in expansion like filmstrip i could sleep through it, right there under my eyes and i try to keep high on my bike, indeed i am more then sober.
maybe that's helping me miss Montreal. but the people even tough i go far and back always it seems like all i have to do is assume that i will never be in complete peace for now in my beloved city but i can;t escape it, i love it like an addiction, the people, the streets appears even in my head so much cleaner, the air feels even different, and i speak franglais. i miss st-henri, and little italy .. jonathan and all the rest,. i need the ocean and it feels insane to be so close to it, but i have been waiting for the menace to send me a sign of where to go, in victoria. maybe later . maybe .i think i already have made my decision to come back after home, why ! so quick. because it takes a whole fuckalot of times to create the place you feel belongs to you in a city , the feeling streets are yours, and here in vancouver there is enough species and animals wearing crazy eyes, shaking all over , they have won their sidewalk and i'd rather be in a cage then free with the junkies. believe me my body even in jail my mind will always be free, but i am not going back to this feeling of death i know clearly by now..... i would rather lock myself up....

and it's hard to forget the stranger's bed i last had a restless divine sleep. this is where i wanna go back... where i sleep and my dreams i saw awake...

les rue de day

so, i ended up in east vancouver, and if i remember missing newyork for it's sidewalks never empty, well i found a new playground. i don't go as much as i use too, but it's better that way. maybe a little less trouble. today i ended up all by myself, i dare to step in th erain out there on my bike but i go slow, trying not to miss the play happening on hastings, i go all the way to main, i need cigarettes but instead i meet a woman who reminds me of roberto, this eccentric crazy boy who once apon a time showed me NY in between the big picture you see the magic, something more like a hit of acid then a fairy tale.. and the woman today sitting under an umbrela with perfect red nails, and scars all over, she had more then a trick in a purse, and a gentleman tramp i am i get charmed almost in a sur-reality, indeed i bought her a coffee. for a cigarettes with a born to be evil actress who instead rise up from the alley of vancouver always making sure not to walk on broken needles, but she tells you she is a lesbian too and lives in a beauutiful bachelor of her own, planning on more rich even, she's about to drag the bank in court o gracefull luck she broke her legs when they, had forgot to put down a caution slippery sign, nobody cares anymore. but i wonder what is more slippery, inside the floor is wet, and my body after a walk outside inside feels dangerous and dry. really dry.

i don't know the answer, the coffee i had with the woman was good, sweet even , but the ride back to the castle was slow, and even my feets rising from the streets i manage to get stained already.

i'll finish my story when it happens.

only little , simple .. wait t'll i get out. in the wilder west.

words… one of the first time I truly get to type. I have been handwriting the way I do, ink. I rode in the city most of the day t’ll night falls at this bar turned into a garden party o so gay, I could see al the people so happy but obviously it is quite not me. I dream seriously of a darker place, still somewhere I could smoke endlessly, and write, and talk to people around me to music more heavy, nothing too crazy but I have craving for a night drugged by guitar languorously getting through me. and I dance, don’t get me wrong, but I don’t dance like the way they do, I get excited by soft and sharp eyes rather then sparkles and brightly days. I am a crow, and there was too much parrots tonight, it’s o.k. I am no one too complain but I like to escape en douceur, where no one knows, and always It hits me then the wanting to have someone waiting for me, someone to call home, where the heart is. and I have my own little cabin inside, but it gets dark at night usually. I am glad I met the people I have there in this house and all around me. still I go my own ways, patience comes and go, right now, just now, I am tortured inside in between going hunting the streets walking slowly with the junkies, prostitutes and who knows, someone like me. but I try to stay in thinking the feeling will slowly disappear but it’s the kind of ink I have been dripping all inside me for years gone by. and I have come through. that’s why I love my city where I find the tools I want to distract me, and the people around me that I love to see when the night is down on us. twilight is a thing , so shortly disappear then it’s pitch dark inside even when the lights are on. I am awake there is no doubt, I am an old soul in need to escape the rhythm too easy I am left standing too steady, and fuck it drives me crazy. this is far from the lies some will convince themselves, I am writing to no one but you. and I miss the last night I slept my arms around your body, it felt like I had nowhere else to go. and that’s exactly the feeling I need, just now. but the feeling is far behind, and for myself to get in troubles, I have patience left right there in front of me , only I can’t grab it so far, and we shall see how long I can stand the tease I created exquisite torture just for me. the girls I can see on the dance floor, there will be nights to come, I need my body to crawl under rainfall, and I dream of my self under your hand. la chute est lente. a dropping storm suffocates on a yearlong inside me, and it gets harder to breathe out,maybe i should jerk it all off.but that;s out of the reach. when I want to breathe inside you, mouths shuts like silent skies over empty coast road, no sideways, I only play the game in a shotgun duality, you gotta believe me when I say I hold no mercy for the girls who likes to hit and run….way to go and then I drag them in a city they call nowhere . I wanted to stay, but I push myself out of the way if I can’t see. your eyes. I remember the way you looked at me, you wouldn’t move and I couldn’t read. but still you were fast to grab in me and I let you through, reacted perfectly in the motion only dancers brings you high there, high inside and all it feels is not a thing but called it true. given a story, now I almost regret I didn’t play it an act digne de verone, the way lovers crawl into the exchange of their hearts even when you know you loose the picture frame when you break it all in two.
you said something, that I remember I should have told you.. I am driven by a thing they call crazy. but I forgot to ask you if I could ride inside for you . have we truly met or only have you wanted me before..

or I. dreaming again. even sober I confuse my own self, with the past the future when I am left alone in time gone by.. I am the moment pregnant without you .
I am my self with or without you.

let me go.... where you don't know

if only i would have known, never would i have stepped a foot in this city where i feel like my whole inside is trying to get out from a cage. toronto as you know.
thank god i can rest at sydney's castle, i only felt like seeing jackson, but appart i feel like seeing no one from here. not because i don't love the people i met while i shortly lived here, but the part of me you can only see in my eyes right now as nothing to do with what you usually see. it's the hunting me who's awake right now, and silent in the night. i have lots in my mind, and last nigth even tough we went downtown to see the world i care no more for , queen street. we came back more then fast to get ready, lay our body the way old friends do in solid structured bed, listening to classical music, talking and laughing on the response to my soul.. a vision to tell me this might me my last game on heart(earth) .. i have not been born in 1981, but this one i feel every moment will be falling like bricks from the skies.. a life to live t'll the end, maybe the reason why all i believe in right now comes from ancient history, in proses and melody, melancholy. maybe this time i am going to be running , then slowly moving in times until my heart set himself free..
the days just before i left montreal were talking to me, the kind of cinematography you feel all over your body, i met a love i decided to let go, so fast only i had predict and felt it flow . drowning with me, i choose to stay a little longer floathing on the water, to see clouds. and maybe the dreams i don;t even know yet have heard my prays undefine in the days. i followed my instincts like the most innocent animal would do, in search of a nest where to hide , of a cave where to crawl under grave to feel alive when you know all i know then so fast you escaped so clever the corner highway of death, your body felt attracted by a road traced into a white clouded park. whenever i leave i always forget to bring the map i should follow, indeed i never planned on the treasure i am about to follow... your eyes showed me blue was the color when all i heard outside was the sound of mysef drowning down.... where the colors are grey. and i tried to breathe in anyway .. and my mind will show me picture of how conscious i was with you when you took me along your way. i remember the song i played for you by the water .. i kow i am not free now, not yet. but i will show you transparance strong enough to stand in front of the lane when the wind blows me crazy.. i will be left there waiting for eyes to see.
no one will cry , because i am going to the island where they predict rain all over ... july ... july .. the rushing veins, and my mellow heart beats.. i sing for me.. until i see the words you inked forever , i am not reality . . the spell is magikal. they say it's trouble is like a puzzle you struggles are to become a perfect image . wait . patience is passion. and in the end i will create a bed small but protected like une tour vue sur la tour de l'ouest, never will it be a prison. silver my toungue will stole the colors and texture of chains, and my hands if you wish they will be set free so i can hold you. . i will then show you a story. une histoire jamais racontee..

( i wish i could let you hear the whole story of angels of light , the endings are crazy , the kind of story i wish i was not alone to see )

and o also i need to say .. i write like th emusic that follows me , it grows into chaos.. but th eway i felt back then is sweeter then honey.. soft .. o si si i can sound like i am gone crazy , but its a lie. they say i am a softy.. and i play insomnia la comedia del arte. buena noche

i do paper these days .

i do more, more then one would do in what they call a day. seriously i have no work, i tend to avoid with such grace any responsibility that involves the government. i am feeling restless. je suis . i remember my last few days in the lands of family being worried i would have lost my energy for ever, no mercy. hey call the disease lazy . what i am doing now is not lazy, only i am a brat and i choose my own playgrounds, as the usual i see in a format they called intensity, created on mesure for hopeless lover with attention deficit disordered mind. but my eyes are just just fine, i could play the game t'll i loose my contacts, look me in the eyes where there are no lies.
for now, i need to be patient and look at the screen with red popped eyes, le phenomene decadent des emerveilee , ceux a qui tres peu sauront resister. but seriously it's kinda getting easy in this early rising month of july , le fait de ne pas avoir froid aux yeux. last night i stayed in, no bars, no cafes, no grande soirees, but also i had it all in front of me, nous qui en fait quelquefois restons l'air petit. but the words being exchange are grand, somehow necessary. then we fell in conversations i havn't had in hell of a while. about pride, nothing gay at all don't you dare to put words into my mouth. it's all about loving what you do, and somehow we still manage to kick in the days away, close your eyes for a split-second then open. it's a new day, it could be sad i forgot last night to spy outside on the color of the moon. but there is sun loads and trust me to a certain audience we appear shiny and ready to roll... that's only me talking from the inside. comfort. from the mansion in colored pink of st-henri, there is nothing to worry about right now, even the cigarettes did come to me.

le cafe est infect, i drink it anyway. i have seen worst, remember there is always something worst. so truly why bother. when the body goes down, all you have to do is follow. but when my minds excessively runs still, i cannot sleep, i'd rather look like ' o romeo you have not seen your bed lately' then to awake with my dreams knocked in le plus profond de l'oubli.