The days that fly like the wrights,
black benality of my nights,
when the fog in my eyes reflects
the clouds in my coffee;
metal spoon whirs
they dissapear quickly,
this is the time when i see clearly.
When i wake up with someone new,
i see the moon & the moon sees you.
with automatic hand i create a face,
circling sighs float on without a trace.
lost in a run of days and flights,
welcoming unwelcome days and nights..
Hemmingways sun rises anew;
tomorrow my sun also rises too?