It's too cold to be out walking in the streets..

A cavernous voice rumbles inside me
totally nullifying the noise my heart makes
It's overrated anyway, you can break it anytime you want..
I lost count on number 9...
My fingers just tap away letters ... tap tap tap..
Legs in yoga position... i'm not understanding anything...
Just feel like talking in a low voice for a while...
Maybe sound mysterious, always be mysterious like Gauguin said..
Don't know french, though it floats way up on the bucketlist..
With this cold... might as well be like Gauguin and run away to Tahiti..
Sit on the sand.. and start wondering what I'm doing there in the first place..
In's and on's.. in's and on's...
Sand is always tricky cause it sticks.. things that stick..
reminds me of you and me..
Curls and straight hair.. challenging time and space with films
beating the cold under the covers...
Don't move.. you'll tilt the laptop...
I listened to the songs you suggested..

They're still playing in my head..

Wish I knew the lyrics.. or the titles...
It's always the same when you hear something you know you'll love...
It takes time to stick.. not like sand.. that's all over the place
the second you stand on top of it..
In's and on's.. in's and on's...
Apart from that.. my wall's taking shape...
got my pictures floating in a rectangle of color... the rest's still white...
Uneven ceiling you always said...
Uneven numbers I always pick...
Waiting till it's 3... though two rhymes with me and you...
Although you're supposed to write the other person before yourself..
Like .. you and me.. out of respect I guess..
Grammar is pretty.. without grammar.. we would have nothing...
But people don't seem to care..
I do..
About in's and on's and Gauguin's Tahiti..
Curls and straight hair...
Global Warming...
Dylan's health...
me and you, you and me.. it's all the same...
It sticks..