now .. just just now..

montreal.. you are like this addiction i wanna leave sometimes.. but you have became such an easy sin to cover all.... i feel you in my skin.. you are a cheap but delightful i consume of you .. and i'm redeem over our relations. suit me and i'll suit you like the perfect silk dress in july .. i'l stay here t'll july .. i'll leave you sometimes.. because you drive me crazy .. i find myself wherever i go .. but when i stay .. then.. i can't lie.. you mirrored me all over brick walls no onetoughts they were crystal.. see through.... but fuck there is s much details in the sand. in silver sand .. i wish we i could find more gold and turn it into money . less work,,,, more more for you and me .. .
i .
i . more then the city
there is you .. and i am being honest like a child who have stolen too much candy blushes with no reasons. i let you know of everything.
and i hope that's o.k. je n'ai de comptes a rendre pour personne. mais j'ose te parler.. en ecrit si calme about this reality .. te dire ces choses qui me sont nouvelles.. nouvelles de l'au dela but i am alive.. so alive.. there will be sparles like gunshot to hurt no one when i see you . . . . . sometimes your body meets another story that would look good in a fashionable magazine.. but i don't read nomore these fashion magazine... i told you before.. i like old ancient poetry . in times where lovers would surrender . their toughts dripping in perfect copper ink. all over the paper... redemption become peace . rain cleans my history . and rust is now beautiful on the fences that protects my body ... until your rain drop in my reality . i wake up and i'm fine .. with my dreamings on my mind.. and it takes no time for the devil to wrap me in his feather of silvery .. but he loves me... and i'm an angel .
an angel of light .. let me go .. where no one know .. and i'll find you there ..
there where the wind blow.. and i'll be your shadow... still wanting to touch you.

Brumes et pluies

Ô fins d'automne, hivers, printemps trempés de boue,
Endormeuses saisons! je vous aime et vous loue
D'envelopper ainsi mon coeur et mon cerveau
D'un linceul vaporeux et d'un vague tombeau.

Dans cette grande plaine où l'autan froid se joue,
Où par les longues nuits la girouette s'enroue,
Mon âme mieux qu'au temps du tiède renouveau
Ouvrira largement ses ailes de corbeau.

Rien n'est plus doux au coeur plein de choses funèbres,
Et sur qui dès longtemps descendent les frimas,
Ô blafardes saisons, reines de nos climats,

Que l'aspect permanent de vos pâles ténèbres,
— Si ce n'est, par un soir sans lune, deux à deux,
D'endormir la douleur sur un lit hasardeux.

— Charles Baudelaire