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Happy birthday... to me. +)

Where the Streets Have No Name

I would like to dance
Where the streets have no names
Where the band never sleeps
And their voices complete
The aroma of morning dew oh so sweet

A world with no distractions
No noises, no contagions
No wars and whatnots with their joy-draining conceptions
Every corner a French bakery
A candy store, an old jukebox
And a sofa with a pot
of hot, lovely Chinese tea!

Everyone a potential lover
No lust for no race
Much less for one's gender
Just the remnants of mankind's once familiar desire
From a time when passion
Governed our senses
Was it only yesterday?
When we could tell apart, camaraderies
And our deepest, secret intimacies.

I would like to dance
Where the streets have no names

Better to Be Lonely Than To Ever Loved

Just for one moment in the dark, I felt loved again. By another vulnerable creature, who gave everything she had. But as quickly as she came, she was gone.

I spent the rest of the night relieving an ancient pain, one that sears not only the body but whose destruction rips opens one's soul, leaving it bare for decomposition. It did not matter that I had an entire king-sized bed to myself; on the contrary, it made the emptiness deeper. Time crawled by, and finally sunlight pierced through the hotel's curtains, dividing the blackness and separating the night.

I swore that glass promise to myself once again, never to let myself fall in love. No, not even for a brief moment.

For they will all leave, taking with them fragments of one's heart as a woman grabs her diamonds whilst fleeing an approaching tsunami.

And the waves will not cleanse the pain, but instead leave behind a trail of devastation beyond one's God-given capacity to contain.


I have locked up my heart in a Swiss bank account and burnt the logs. What remains to be done is to hum a melancholic ballad tune and fling the keys into the silence from the peak of the ice-crowned, snow-bleeding Matterhorn.