apology

i have words and words to write ,but 20 seconds on th einternet .. so i shall truly say i apologize for not having the time to correct or write more ..
my head is boiling, but i need my whole life to be moving ... faster but surely in the direction that suits my destiny

' nights in the city i use to spit but now i bite my own toungue'

now. days of sleeping, food, lazyness at it's best and family reunion, wonderfull but i need to crave something, and there i get feed way too much. so i left ...
i was so bitter for the last moments in this cold city i left so fast . but you can't let go of the people you know, the few that got through you so you come back, for a short moment only. i dream of appearing my heart and body 21 hours away from here. to see you , your last words i barely heard like people talking fast but sweet like time will slip in between our hands, and voices travelling it's never enough of a feeling in riding a copper wire i want you to hide me, like a secret no one truly knows i exist and my identity is tattooed on my skin you cannot kill me so easily, because then people will know. i can only be missing for so long back where i say i belong.
my last times in montreal were nervous, shaky, i was a stranger and all this because i forgot to breathe the way i told myself i would do so. i fucking forgot. and time let you see the past history i got plenty of time quick to study, and i am still a hell of a goo dstudent when comes to the speed i let my brain go to . there was no reasons for me to wait longer , i needed again to go further away to create my destiny....

later . i did not publish this post on time. at 7 in the morning i always wait a little longer. never always can you trust your hands when your eyes are looking numb.
but we are day light, i learned yesterday the last peice of technology i had is no more, some fuckers got rid of it without a words, or sold maybe, they can lick me where i pee, i took th escreen and threw it in the air, lovely the sounds when shit breaks. now i get back to what secretly i adore, old school. i have a bag , pen and paper and still bits of my heart and a ticket to america, they say the dream begins. i dream only of peace, and i would like to feel that way even when i'm not alone, i want a rooftop and more rain then one can take. and i wan tto be unknown by the system...see i told you before i am a hopeless romantic dreamer.
jonathan last night told me ; margo people and there choices, life is 2+2=4 i fyou fuck up you pay fo rit , you play too hard with your brain and body and you could even die.
then margo he told me your life is 2+2=3 only 3, you are so lucky if someone would do the calcul clear you would be i jail already , now you are still free.
you got it, maestro, free my own way , never easy even when i look so smooth .
maybe the ones i worship were still drunk when they wrote long ago their toughts, and i follow in style the road is never straight , it's just fine that way .
i have flushed away the lost of material, even th ebed i use to sleep in , gone. leave me alone, i hate to carry it all, i would carry a friend even my dog before the weight of all i use to be , surrounded with .. it made me sick, now i should go, i knowa place i have never seen before under a bridge where i can look at the stranger in the water , i reflect .

i reflect

fast car

i dream of a fast car an dthe friends arround me are there but reminding me i need to go, and i am scared to end up alone in the middle of the highway and i don't want to entertain some guy random holding a wheel looking sideway at me. i want someone else then all the people in this city to look at me. you mentioned rooftops and then you do not know how easy i dream of escape, and i know many ways to run away so fast from the reality i get surrounded with. a fast cat who needs a fast car. but it might not happen and then i'll be lost in my hometown with nothing else then the music i like to comfort me and the book are filled already maybe a sign to tell me i have to look carefully into my past in all the details i draw a long ago, and choose the high and low worth telling to strangers like a midnight story , they say i have a way to show you hope even drowning in the dark holes i fell often. but i get out and i do love sunshine, and lately i have been writing, walking, talking even slowly, and the hopes have been hiding inside me , drugged by hours everything feels like a slow motion replay of what i've seen already, the scene i'd rather fall asleep watching my own movie. and that's killing me, so i am gonna change the peoples, the landscapes, the city once again, and tricking my own self this time again by leaving so far with no ticket to come back. no house awaiting me or no one specially. i sound like a lost dog wandering in alley all night long looking cute in case someone would invite me to become their cuddling buddy. and i smile thinking of a lot of kids dreaming fiercely of a job, a school to ride into, and o sing me lullaby i don't need to gain my life i already have it. but what i want is someone to play with, remember the kids left alone for so long they grow up trapped inside their heart and dreaming for breaking.
words are over ... cuz it really does not matter for tonight .

all i care for is you and you and words.

seriously .. there is days when you get confused or indeed waste time thinking of what you can do next, career. jobs,studies. well most of those i wanna do are just not here for now. and then at the end of the day when i end up somewhere so tired, and manage to sit in front of my book or another new computer, all i wanna do s write ,and i can't call it only fun, it's a necessity, some exercise without it you go crazy , the body needs rest but my head can only go to sleep once it has been dumping several words out of it . i partied hard in hochelaga last night , more like the last 50 hours or so, less food or what you can swallow in, but after a while your muscles and organs are going low, and i left today after 5 hours of sleep dieu merci. to go west again, st-henri and the rest was short but delightful, spending time one on one by the river with a new friend, another one to tell me they like it actually when i bring back so sharply the feeling of love, hope . and we talked about surrender, the perfect word and most insane challenge you can only struggle through. for a moment i had forgot the pain inside me, the teeth that use to be filled with stained blood in the morning were gone back to an honest smile i could deliver once again. by the river with a beer and cigarettes we talked for a while. it's funny when you end up having the same kind of conversations with many people, deep into the world around you and the spiritual quest some follow and some don't even know, and all it's o.k. to follow what works for you. she told me her life was going to be full inside if she kept on learning always , which tells me back with no doubt actually she will be a perfect strong woman able to point out the bad , and help the ugly to show the world that what you should really find out about people is the feelings floating inside their soul. the magic will come and you will find others just like you there is beauty all over us but whatever is kept empty, kept unfed will rot eventually. i like the image in my mind just now, the difference between a man looking so fancy dress in versace who alone still manage to treat the world around him just like shit , because he hasn't even thought about it .. those species are the usual one i tend to see shortly in downtown somedays hey make me go away . i go away and ride until i find a place hiding behind a factory near by the train track, with grass trying to break in between the rocks and noise further, nobody else but me facing the dead paysage in front of my eyes, steel structure rusted and broken bones of what could have been century ago a castle for hobos, and i'm glad for a bit i get to see it, and i know everywhere i go there will be broken pictures, but i least they welcome me in serenity hard to describe and i know for sure these land looking almost dead have been through so much history it's a lifetime glory. and to be honest i think i'd rather run my life fast then slowly then fast again, through all that rain out and inside me, you never know when the structure will start to break in so slowly and i still am far from so good taking care of the only thing that will ever carry me through insanity . i feel lucky after wise that the bricks are falling right on me, i get bruises but fucking don't ask me why but at the end of the day i still find a way to look at it and never i can hold on to regrets, it's worthless. i will fight to the price of loosing my life maybe one day , and what i have and intend to keep alive is my freedom, and tonight even you were lovely by the water to remind me that the one and only place worth really to be free is in my soul, in my dreams, the ones to draw for me to see reality. and remember if one day i get shot down an alley, or thrown in jail for my what so thievery even if anyone tells you hey oh they got margo capture or hey oh they kill the poor girl down the highway . you are a fool to dare believing any story told about me from an outside source, i am the one who decide when it's over , i choose to live where i wanna live, and my mind no one is ever gonna take over and control it's way. if i die then it's a fucking lie because i never choose so.
for some it is harder, because we want to go further, and i realize talking to you we were right that one crazy new age type of urban monk ride to follow is to surrender of anything that could possibly take over the lightness you adore when you ride in the streets late at night in the city when it sleeps not so carefully, it's sometimes more of a battlefield in the daytime, so i hide now and then but when the moon sets herself then i feel like i can find myself and the breathing of my heart is gone back to a peacefull drop into water . and i will soon escape my city again, like a runaway who hasn't done so much wrong in the outside world, but i get distracted way too easily by the addictions i know by heart in the city so i will be away for who knows how long, but this time i will not be back for a lack of money since even there i am stubborn and will not work for any job unless it's somehow showing me intensity. boring has become a word from evil. a place you don't wanna be.
for real to be honest i don't care now about where i wanna be. but i wanna be with someone late at night , someone to keep me in their bad, so warm and for more then one night, someone who will stand there in pissing rain kissing me, standing there until we grow together the love i use to let go easily like an open scars poring slowly. i need to stay patience and wait because i find it boring when i see love without passion. and i will distract myself until i find you there . in a land without any name, where we define the space we wanna invade ..

i am the killer inside me ..

a ce jour je vous dis, il le faut bien.. faire ce qu'on doit de faire quant tout l'interieur se seche et mes levres aussi. pour un seul instant c'est possible mais c'est de la folie quand le temps n'est plus. and when the days are getting long enough to hold in you more then a clockwise round trip. you need react. la reaction se fait car mon instinct ne meurt jamais, ne dors que tres peu. reagit dieu fucking merci juste au beau moment .. but always standing at the edge of myself, in balance walking on such thin lines between this moment i fear most when you see my eyes are looking scared in the daylight. i feel low. but i still write clearly for me, even my voice today would tell you everything is not the same. i came back so fast in the city i say o adore, but this time the fortune teller had seen me right, telling me i for once after walking almost free in broken glass wonder why my feets are fucked already. but this time she told me i would do what ever it takes in order to let go of a part of me i have kept so close even tough i knew how risky it will always be. and i don't want it anymore. i can't take it, days i wanna hide are days worst then jail because i am the only one judge of what i do to me. it sounds so brave when i tell you i fear not even to be trapped in a cage, so i could write and no one alive will take my life away... but i may be the lover, i knew since long ago we are made of archetypes and i am also inside somewhere the killer. i look severe in my eyes profound but don't ever be scared i would never hurt you, the only one i ever run to hurt her so is called my most precious shadow. the lover is not as solid as i could.
be.
still. hesitant. older. hurt. by dreams gone lost. i am . not dead. only.
i need to be faster at running away from myself, or else even better i should turn around to look inside my eyes they reflect all of me and if i could close down, face down and kill you murderer. strangle you t'll i can breathe again and leave you behind with the snakes that you always invite even tough you know how scared i am of them crawling in my skin.

romy made me remember the day i saw the letters so solid black on white .

love leaves it's abuser...

and if i stay then i am never gonna make it running everyday, there is no exit when the roads are circles infinite, the way cats gone crazy are running for their tails.
i do have an end, just before is the limit, and even tough i am a children belonging to the sea, it's not gonna help me to dry the life i have left there just for me.
it's intense when i write down alone in a cave, in a bed i don't even know but got told i could go, simple words i care less i am not here to give you poetry, i am trying to protect so carefully the broken feeling inside of me. le coeur.when it's over then it's over. and you do not always choose the memories crossing lines for you to see, the body when it dries is exactly like my mother's.
even blind i would have remember, life comes and go even when you are not done the play. only i should know i am still more lucky then those who would like to see me.
even dead she still care enough to come in words to remind me, she never would have raised me to become my inner murderer.

no matter how much i know i have to make it on my own. i am feeling fragile and confessing becomes easier this way. i still dream of one day someone will love and remind me passion was worth being patient and maybe she'll even help me with her hands gently to release the nervosity that runs always inside my belly.

you cannot go back, but a part of me can die so the child could see just once again. i am gone mad enough to try harder then what my life have showed me already.

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.

twilight still in the oldest land i have ever lived..

her i made it quite easy .. in lands of family , as soon as i get here alone,, i am so hard to keep in place, i run to one of my uncle i wish i could smoke in his home, and i write , i'm trying to start editing my old words.. but i need a little less light for this process to begin. i will be gone until i can't stand it no more.. .. i receive words from an old friend ( ...) going to the sea out east .. i still think a lot about her .. its crazy how certain love just won't leave you alone, not every story to be born and die so easy.. i still feel it inside me ,i never said it wasn't crazy, but it feels more easy after rapture has fell in eternal sleep, i'd rather keep the spell then awake too early without the one i am waiting for.. better then any other flirt that felt like a side candy the kind to digest easy. all is to changes but never does it mean for it shall grow smaller..

o.k. i shall go i need to write somewhere, on words, on paper, under skin, it's the itch inside.. something strong that never gets release..
but you live .. and deal with it..
no one feels the same, but i know you feel it too, in someways not any weaker nor stronger .. the same deep fucking down like it's roots is growing live in bloody heart tissues.. here to stay and hunts you t'll no end...


i love you johnny .. my love for you i can't always explain, i love it when i get those rage inside and i \write like i use to, but not exactly cuz i've changed , and you have, and the feeling translate, but there is nothing to deny in it's way..
there is random flirt and living comfort, love me tender and be my lover in a sweet salted story, but then there is passion, the words is en voie de disparision, and it's player are also growing tired , but i will never stop the play as in terms of my heart will one day . shut down, until then .. shall we.. be .. how ever it feels i cannot refuse the feelings are spiderweb in silver strings deep in carved beneath my eyes, and in twilight if you keep on looking , you will see, through me.. they tought it was easy , no no i never said it should be .. easy .. there is no love born to be easy .. but there is nothing worth living i can see.. but this heart stroke inside me,... it breathes steady, fast and then slowly..

i shall see you soon..
yours .marijo st-amour.

stigmata

why o why, because there needs to be some kind of a title, and lately i have been going nuts with this itch incredible right there in the middle of my hands, pressure point, but i do feel quite calm and even people tend to notice , but i have reasons to be nervous, gavernment wise i only have developed a way to forget about it a little too easily.. so i am back where i belong for now, well i will one day agree to my own future history an dgo back endlessly to the sea, but as for now i am not quite fed with my beloved city , dear Montreal, you are sugar easy in my mouth after the bitter taste toronto has been surrounding what i had no other unfortunate choice but to see.
but i don't stay well often in the place i cannot feel it becoming a playground for older child in need of charming city. so i came back just on time, for soon to start the weekend of my own quebecoise fierte. sweet better we even have visitor soon on their way from the anglo land to our french territory. but hell as much as i am enjoying my return it has been electrified in terms of our kind of personal sweets, the kind of taste you gotta be ready to get back on to your feet if you want to survive the days to come your way. money they say was there to be burnt, but luckyly i have not been alone watching the fire pit going in deep side our minds.
i feel home and i like the respect, grandiose of our sometimes broken identity, judged are the junky of intensity, the ones who choose to walk through the day with this pressure in blood strains, you might believe for a second this is reality, but no, indeed that is what we wanted , to create our own imagery, scenes and the time line in front of me, i am telling you , it's o.k. if you want to step in it's way, only you have to be ready to give it hell of a play. to make them believe you are standing straigh more then they say. just breathe for a second, let yourself go easy at first, it takes times to be able to rollercoaster up and down the day without dropping peices of your to be always reborn identity.

so.. i have more to say, but my friends i have not seen in a long time are still awake and we got to catch up the sun together while you are there in dreams, we speak in a verite only la langue des fous comme nous sommes restee eveillees, pour voir encore une fois le jour se lever..

les nuits seule au chateau en annex.

now the concentration is becoming slow. and there was visit. i a the visit that hides inside by choice. i want water, to feel better in the clothes i have been running all day. and it's not getting any cooler at night, i dream of a shower with no shiver after, of a bed made of pillows, and soft blankets, all the missing i have not been doing any much about, i sleep when i'm tired, an di leave when it feels heavy to be in a space with no radio, it's the worst, i could sleep on wooden floor with music and cigarettes way before all the unnescesary. soon it will be over, and i will need hell of an excuse to come back.
i am still waiting for you stranger, and god knows how much i hate it. waiting for what i would run faster to find myself. it keeps me awake but if you wait for nothing then nothing is any better. not now. i spoke to my dear emma, i read easily the few lines you send me, we will talk tomorrow. we might see each other sunday , then i a gone, i would have stayed to see you play. but it's hard for me to look at you and even from close i feel the distance and accoustic in a room dark where i would see no one but you and cloud of smoke, i then would stay . but i have my ticket outside of this city so freaking early on monday , i have been quiet about leaving, but i have not done a thing. worries do come on time .

i am melting inside , and feeling just a little alergic to the outside streets, toronto to be the first city where i don't feel calm in crazy night's crowded streets. i run faster but aware of all the drunken fuckers. c'est la vie .
mais ce n'est pas ma vie, i tought of myself away from cities and felt it impossible the silences and little arround you, but never again i have felt the need to be away. i would die alone in the country. it's hard to think of ho wlong could i stay with the angels and demons in my head. by the sea with enough scotch and a nice little desk just by the window. there is nothing enough crazy not to live through. i want changes, and i need to change along with them .

i feel quiet now. just now.

jamais n'est-ce le dernier mot.

pas ce soir. il se fait deja tard mais j'en ai rien a foutre. je suis toujours seule, and even tough les dames de la maison are the rares i wanna see when i'm already deep into my bubble, a little shaky in a good way , i need tea. i made tea. it's that easy sometimes, when i am on the road most of the time my back is breaking from the weight i carry but i have everything i need to be. i always envy the ones i see with bags so small life is more easy but i remember this man that told me when he needed to train himself and feel healthy all there was to do is take a bag and walk nowhere and further with it. simple but there is all the tool they have created, the day i know i can protect myself completely with the strenght of my mind, of my hands, and survive endlessly , i will also be ready to die. not envious , only ready for when i have to go where no one know. i sound calm about it , as a cat i have already lost a good half of it, and pushed my body and soul in extreme ways , not very conventional shall i say but even when i realize and think back about the roads i took, and how maybe faster would i have done all i had to do if i had kept myself in what they call 'le droit chemin' but if i think of my right side, and all the stories that created me, inked sur la droite, it reflects love, and love you better be ready to ride if you want to go through . these loves are now peacefull( almost ) in my life, still there to stay . but . truth is i can change the subject insanely that i remember shit and i rarely go back into my words.
it never was suppose to be that easy to read someone's mind anyway , there is clear days, and fuzzy night to breathe in . i see clear but i desire way more then the keyboard my hands are dancing strangely over..
you came back , i don't need name because i have ways to dreams about who knows, still hunting me. and lover i create while they were friends alive and there for me to see and be, a better reason for sinematic story for insomniac in need to stay calm, but i run away late at night in search of my reality, i am truly not the kind to stay in comforting bed alone jerkin' off. i like it better when i can feel the wanting right from under my belt.when i ride inside. out. and more on the surface of my skin. i am missing like insane your body i never would have tought could take me the way i always wanted to . your eyes sweet but your arms twitching to hold me still, the way you want me. ce qui me manque encore plus ce sont ces nuits ou j'ai sentie ton corps en relache, all of you letting go, vulnerable but have you a clue i was going to hold you , and never play you unfair. i did in the way i have grown with unusual talking habit, an dno one arround me to talk about all that was in my head, and this head of mine always so fast moving, i imagine everyone will do the same. but there i was wrong. i wish i woul dhave been there longer to learn more of who you are, not the way you look, what stroke inside your stomach, and i hope the one that will ever go there will do it softly, because i know i have been push so hard to show the inside of my guts, and it creates sweet angel like me who are double edge blade with no mercy .


again . a suivre . soon. tant qu ela bulle n'eclate , there will be time .

the song i adore you gave me what feels like ages ago. but you'll alway sbe my favorite memory. the melody left me sensation prints are deep in me, the bullet red that never came out from the back. still intact , an installation inside my heart.
art to live forever.

pj. harvey

Long goes the night
Longer the day
Teclo your death
Will send me to my grave

I learned to beg
I learned to pray
Send me his love
Send him to me again
Let me ride
Let me ride
Let me ride on his grace for awhile
Let me ride
Let me ride
Just let me ride on his grace for awhile

Long goes the night
Longer the days
Teclo your death
Will send me to my grave
Let me ride
Let me ride
Just let me ride on his grace for awhile
Let me ride
Let me ride
Just let me ride on your grace for awhile
Just let me ride



on the road i will never fear to ride this way .

time is , bad replay of the ''slowdrug''

. later . days are so long outside, i finally rode my ass to another crazy woman, very welcoming, the way my family o piraterie in montreal would be. fuck sake it aint that scary. but i fell a little bit , to spare time before i spend dime, and the air so conditionee , lovely without the heat but i awoke with this pressure in my throat the same one you get when there is a cold watching you. when you are running in a city so big with a lot of nothing, you feel bless almost to have a space to write , listen to your music, and aleluya smoke inside,dans la penombre a l'interieur, i still see. i feel exactly like the lights arround me, in a house completely locked, the windows are shut, and the cat is even hidding for now, mazzy star makes me triste in a lovely way. i went for diner today with a girl amazing , guitar player an dan adventure i had long ago in montreal, one of th elongest night in my life , without a crazy party bien sur. we met in a bar on parc av. then i remember she gave me a note, i answered and out in the street , closing time it felt insane for me to part away from her without knowing. what we could become in a night. nothing expecteded but i always think , and behave as the lover, and i became a charming friend pretty fast, that;s the instinct of the lover making sure not to loose so much people in refusal to see , they will maybe stay there for longer then you tought. so. that night we walked like crazy , to her house in the plateau to her house, hiding from her roomates just a little, i heard her play guitar. an dcrazy i truly wanted to fall asleep next to her but at this time my gallery had been baricated so we went anyway , and i literaly broke inside the rear window. crazy. then in the morning we left . i don't remember where, we saw each other a littl eafter that. then probably more thne a year without really words with her. today was a sweet afternoon, i realized that laughing is crucial. and certain people i havn't laugh much with these days. i need crying but i need laughter.
love and laughter.
romy you wrot eme so little today . in italian and o whta a pleasure for me to find the words perfect answer, a least i will alwaays be trying with you . italian.
but your words are precious to me, and to miss someone is something , to know they'll be back in your life , and then the warrior makes it all better. and you are. we are from a race i don't see, you are not quite like me an di am not quite like you . but i will never meet someone..like you . .

amores don't die.

i have more to write , more to say .. about the day . about what i saw yesterday . and what i see in tomorrows. but now i am waiting .
in sinfull patience . as always i still believe i am an angel

sesame street come deliver me ..

why o why , because i am in hell. today is actually an exception, after wandering in a cafe i know already too much. i left on my bike, awoke at 7 in the morning to go to work, never went.... once my head wants his freedom even my body gets afraid of the work, all i'll ever remember . how to ride. but this city drives me crazy too many road empty full of monkey to go through .. and trust me i am not in a social mode, i ride past the same streets and nowhere to stop, for food maybe. and for alcohol, but lately i have been some kind of an angel, maybe the devil only resting until i fall back into my playground. my love. montreal is a city. i am obsess with this city. but the girls are still hunting .. the only nightmare i can watch and sleep with, a fairytale that never last or one your mother told you ages ago in her last bed that you would sleep forced by with no dreams to remember. they comes inside and it feels like a storm with no rain. i am becoming suspicious of my own feeling.. last note i wrote to . you . i send you my love and if you don't fucking want it just trow it off the window and let it breath . don't let me suffocate . i belong free and i tought you know it .. i tought it was clearly printed in the look in my eyes. but i loved those night my body trapped sweetly under yours. and o a pleasure to give myself to you . you had no clue and it's o.k. your innocence wins, i let go of too much , before you even asked for, i was learning to slow down, and your absence came to meet me before one last kiss. before once last night melting by your side. i knew from the begining that i was leaving, i've had crazy ride roller coaster into obsessive feelings, the feel it will drown you flying from the inside , a high better then any drugs you can take. but we are slow lover, and proper friends, btu it's toronto for fuck sake. even friends are nothing like the hearts i know in montreal... this morning a friend of mine wearing the best hat ever.. loosen up toronto . si si i agree.
i need you to know i hold not even rage , not even deception or angry toughts towards you , the gentle me understood a lot more then you would see, because we all believe our silences are that crystal clear, but i told you i cry in crystal i know how to read, and i am more aware then all i can talk in a day . it's only the obsessive me that wanted you a little more, just a little more. what can i say i ache for affection, and i act pretty crazy on the feelings that are slowly pushed away, not forgotten just away . away .

it's o.k. i came here to this city to go away . again. and i am actually running, not away from me , but from the streets of this city before they make me so sarcastic even on a sunny day , i am my own company and i need to lay off the schedule, i am too old to work like that for you and you and you , i builded fence an deven my boss who think she is creating, straigth from a catalogue . i work for art . and my friends..

words, i need them. there formality, the way they explain what's missing in me .
my words of the week.
pas·sion
–noun 1. any powerful or compelling emotion or feeling, as love or hate.
2. strong amorous feeling or desire; love; ardor.
3. strong sexual desire; lust.
4. an instance or experience of strong love or sexual desire.
5. a person toward whom one feels strong love or sexual desire.
6. a strong or extravagant fondness, enthusiasm, or desire for anything: a passion for music.
7. the object of such a fondness or desire: Accuracy became a passion with him.
8. an outburst of strong emotion or feeling: He suddenly broke into a passion of bitter words.

yeah from what i feel or all those time with the people i see, i get lonely and remember how this feelings draw me alive, but feelings are nothing you can buy in the liquor store.

fragment, the subject might chahge , i ran in order to buy my special limonade, scotch. all of last week it tasted bad into my throat , too strong, or too much , or i was sad enough with a smile on my face , becoming like all the kids out here, i'd rather cry an drink it all, but i don't need to cry, there is a difference with a broken heart then bored eyes watching the day light . turns into much of a disaster when you wanna hide because you have been riding all the way on queens's street on a friday night, i get claustrophobic, but i never was..

there is no need to waste the keyboard telling you about the last weeks . i am o.k. now. just now. in the house we complain about the smell of smoke but imagine if we ciouldn't lit up smoke after smoke. we would all hate the smell of sweet sweet pie. no sugar it ain't really what we need.

you see . someone told me they would read that blog, so there is no need of me to censure these words, actually i had no intention to talk about you , not because i want not, more because life's force of animal told me in quiet whispers that i should keep more inside me, and lest for the other, but you know i am a pretty bright one but still it takes more then a week to recover from drug use and abuse, so who knows i might loose the feeling somewhere inside the brain where it floats in harmony . still there is always good chances it might end up in a cave somewhere no light .. still don't get me wrong what i feel is always heavy in a good way . nothing easily overwhelms me . especially the heart , don't always falls in love . this time i feel calm about it with you , i wouldn't unless you would drag me there with you , but there aint no way i am falling alone.. it's like diving , and i am the ocan this time, but they'll tell you ...never you should dive alone, the deeper the more danger you'll be feeling all inside you. i love the scene i am left here, i'm glad i stayed, you havn't got bored of me yet , so lady should i really think of me as lucky. there is three o lady there just behind me , i am listening to heavy perfect music, and i love the echoes in the back of my head, women's voices intertwined together. i just had a falligng tought inside me, of you , and only you walking towards the kitchen or you room, and i follow , because i don't feel bad hypnotize, it's not your body that drags me away from the notes i hit crazy , i wish it could go faster . it's the way we moved on that night we were drugged children wanting human calor the way kids wants to play where they have been told not too.
i wonder how crazier sober it could be , the softnest in slow motion can be insne, not your head anymore spinning but your senses, ...

later. my body is warm, land away from cold, a little tired, a lot actually , i need to dive, or a hard rain falling on me , i would drag you out there just you stand there with me in the rain until we get soaked. soaked.
i am lost into my own tought, i could or should rather not feel but i am sorry i learn too strong never to be cold to my impulsiveness. i feel, and at last i will always be able to lay it on words. and i will stay sit still on that chair, heat risibng , when i wanna do like the boys do al teh time, i wear no shirt , i remember how perfect it feels someone's hands on my stomach , i feel like the person i created so real under the surface of what you really can see. androgyne more even then the way i look . there is so much eyes in one room looking all over, we could almost play frenesie and that would be o.k. but i will not look at you , not just now. i want a straight fall into darkness, only because my eyes are shut down by your lips. but i knopw exactly how to dream awake i told you so .
my muscle are getting numb from the alcohol.. i wanna lay head under water for the whole week until i feel rebirth of the rider that i'll always be like an animal left back into the right jungle . i am an animal. there is no lie. i am hunting in a desert land of a city look into me you will see i have it inked into my skin the only where there is no lies..

don't lie, and i will not .. and the world outide that stand like a fake picture moving unsteady in a rhytmn to make no sense i'm sorry i have better expectations, we will see and stay still like perfect moment pregnant.

i will stop the words there is always more. but i stop my hands so many times through one letter i am lost in my own rythmn and i want nothing like this, still i have wishes to hear you , see you . crazy . like no one else tells me , there is words you can describe in a formal book, but crazy is a way to be , amd no one act the same. you are nothing like the same. nothing like it ...

more. w.o.r.d.s... i had feeling someone would read, next time i'll be writing on my own , and i will deliver letter to the cat he will be a fine messanger..