starry night

On the loud rooftop,
raindrops dance to double choruses
of a sinking bed
and why he can never leave.

On the weeping walls,
dripping made-up memories
of painters giving up
and drowning in every colour.

On the shouting speakers,
flow foreign syllables
of the wild and sedated
passion. The ''real'' life. 

On the nature of the this,
I dont really give a fuck
and I never speak of hope
and they never speak of me. 

On the sinking bed.
Sink deeper sink
to the depth of loving years.
until you find pieces of yourself
until you find nothing of me