Cold Feb night

Cold February night, there’s nothing to do but to sit here by an empty downtown and smell the scent of China and amber. Ambrosia, amnesia. It’s all quiet on the hood ’till one drunk screams to the unknown and the train scathes on by. The chill is colder when there’s a couple walking together without

In the heat of Asia

We just wanted to play aroundall day and nightcontent and not seeking anything more Damp nights in Asiajust walking the quiet night streetsowningworld clasped in handscareless, just skidding off fun What every aspiring rock star wanted in late nightsafter the wee hours of an ending partysome things to talk aboutsome pains to sharesome loves to

An a$$ kind of love

Your wannabe interest and my wannabe interest in going out, partying hard, and getting laid was strong enough to bring us together. It’s a bit weird having this type of a mindset for someone who’s commonly seen as a pretty oddly-reserved-for-no-apparent-reason type of person. You were everything that I objectified; dark haired and creamy skinned.

Favorite things

New feeling A sunny weather And a guy that knows how to dance

Cycling for three hours

Nothinnn

You go through life doing a lot of things; School, work, relationships, Vacations, hearing neat speeches, Learning new skills, that get old Finding a niche Forming an opinion Feeling sad for others; getting annoyed by others Feeling attacked, developing a case to live Doing productive stuff while watching the clock tick When really, there’s nothing

Passion fruit paradise

To Paradise

It’s time To go back to paradise. To feel the soft, hot, sun crawl around painted skin. To let the ocean waves tease legs; leave it with a taste of some salty, pungent memory. And to let the warm breeze blow all troubles away. To be able to close eyes and breathe in sweet air