i love to
walk. Walk until
the streets are empty and the
last fumes of a decaying day loses it grip,
embracing it’s own death. I walk, just like you. With what
conviction, do we dare to say that we know at all where this road leads to.
Strangely bizarre, is the night, distantly a stranger, again. Up there, there
is a smell of drunken stars, spinning so fast. Still baffled by
the long walk, I contemplate how to unite
with these nocturnal
~ by Aquatic Poetry on October 17, 2010.