Is it anybody?

Am I good enough, she says,
When I try to kiss her neck.
Am I good enough, she says,
When she sees me on the bench.
Am I good enough, they say,
If I get things done my way.
Am I good enough, they say,
At the time they see my flesh.

Am I? Are We? Is it Anybody?

When I ride the fastest horses,
Am I good enough, she says.
If I glance beyond the front door,
Am I good enough, they say.

I am, We are. Anybody is.

Days of a lost summer...

The heat is intense. Feels like burning.
Even though my bed is a mess, it doesn't seem to bother any of the 2 people on it.
One of them is sleeping, the other one is me; writing blurbs.
For moments I stare at my companion, wishing he would do something more interesting than just lie there. Yet the scene amuses me enough to not wake him up.
Lucky me, this warm weather just made him remove his black t-shirt.
I think I could just eat up this fine man in front of me. But I only stare.
My forehead is now wet. Like telling me I should too take my clothes off. I totally agree and do so.
Now naked I continue my writing.
Once a few other lines I look around. Stopping my sight at the slim half-naked body before me. There's noises on the street. Mostly wrecked motor-cycles begging to be fixed, and of course, the gentle and tripping sound of car-tires passing by.
Lord am I bored.
God am I lonely.
That all I can do is look around and desire.
Then stick my nose back to this paper.
I would light up a cig, but damn, my throat feels like resting.
The sweat now streams my face, I dry it off with my hand, and dry my hand with my sheets. Not very nice, but to me, it does it.
Well, OK, Nicotine Calling!

Wind

Wind blows through my feet,
Takes me away from here.

Fever that digs a hole in my soul,
People that walk abound, laid down.
Darkness that dims the sound on my ground,
Grudges that walk around, calmed down.

Highways that curve the nerves, lined up straight.
Sweat drops that wet my bed, dried away.

Wind blows through my feet,
Takes me away from here.