la voce di crepacuore
ho solo
scomparire
(essere… causa) perche’
che cosa e
egli ha voluto.
e sono caduto
in questo
shock. (more…)
Posts Tagged: ‘heartbreak’
la voce di crepacuore
shout out shenzhen
Happy Sunday global love tribe
Today I would like to send a special shoutout to Shenzhen, China. While I have not (yet) had the chance to travel to China, it has always been on the list. Particularly when I lived next door in Australia. However, all of my holidays back then involved traveling to New York City (naturally).
It’s always baffling to explore who on the planet we all co-habitate somehow finds my words in web land. Particularly since I cut all of my social media out of the picture. Some days I miss Instagram – however, I find that no updates outside of here seem to suit me at the moment.
This changes every six months or so, I’ll wait and see what happens. (more…)
when brooklyn has your back
Last night I was in Brooklyn licking raw Luthier wounds. One of my favorites made the evening, like always.
I tipped topless women and laughed loudly. I was twirled to tracks that played on a juke box in a Cony Island bar, catching up with a bartender I used to see regularly.
I had fun for the first time since my birthday. Last week was a little whack. (more…)
around. it’s hard. opera.
I was speaking with one of my favorite people yesterday who commented how I haven’t been around.
Truth be told, the luthier fucked up my game for a hot second. So yeah, she’s right. I haven’t really been around. I’ve been out and about – all over the place.
My heart has been kicked around at this point to a degree where getting over another break-up has taken on a new tone. I used to try to think of what could be done differently, or how to fix things. (more…)
my birthday. dust biting.
Today is another birthday. Last year, I was sailing around the south Caribbean. This year, I have a soul sister from Australia beside me. It’s five in the morning, we’re on our way to Central Park.
Yesterday, the luthier decided he needs some space. I guess this has been unravelling since I last popped into these parts.
Some things I save for poetry. But trust me, that one hurt. Yet another one bites the dust.
In a few hours I’ll be having French pastries and black coffee in Soho. Tonight I plan on dancing to samba.
You never know what a birthday will bring. Here’s to year 38.
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