untitled #9

i didn't know what i was looking for
i just felt the need to have some place to go to.
so i went there,
the street filled with lights and sounds and smokes
where noone's supposed to feel lonely.
i set my sight on my toes, and trailed on the narrow pavements.

that small coffeeshop with white window sills looked warm from the outside.
maybe it's its red cushions, or its density.
people chattered, tacky pop songs were played aloud,
and i was sunk in.

the street offered ample of images,
some from what i see, some from my memory,
as if it meant to appease me.
the way the smoke clears as i made my way.
residue of sweaty sigh of temptation released, amongst rushed steps
and conversation about lies.
faces i no longer see.
and the smell, the smell that lingers like a bad headache.

do you have to lose everything to truly live?
i hold on to things, no matter how sickening
or hurtful they are
because they help me remember myself.
does anyone really want to live without fear?

the night crawled deeper, and still there's no sense of closure.
the street would still be there
and moments would relapse.