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?

The End

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