Fish Bowl & Surge

Fish Bowl

Inspiration peculiarly comes

most often at night

running late

with white thoughts

and dark dreams of yesterday.

Intelligent,

but lacking

the luster that comes from memories;

the dazzling effect

of mystery and misery.

I am who I almost was

we were how we are

almost this, but never that

still we don’t swim far.

Surge

Words whispered

back and forth.

Continuously following a star

called north.

I must confess,

I think of you

more often than not.

And somehow wrongdoings

are all begot.

A cigarette to calm the urge,

hoping soon

our bodies will merge.

A 16-year-old stomach tied in knots,

drowning in her useless thoughts.

20: this time it is me

are you lost in insecurity?

Ten letters between us,

a whole country too.

So why can’t I stop dreaming

of us and you?