I miss those blue walls
Sometimes not at all
And those blue eyes
We could watch the ceiling all night
In those purgatory hours between midnight and the morning.


The heavy eyes

Lately, my thoughts have been quite insensitive
People tell me
I always look too pensive
That I am too young to be this sad.

These, the heavy eyes of a broken down artist.

Yet I feel everything
What a tragic time to be young
And writing sad, sad rhymes
I think maybe writing could help.