I walk down the Half-paved night street. I'm shunned down by the rain that soothes the undertaken screams and whimpers that I say without taking my lips and my tongue out of the silence of the earth.

I walk down the unmoving hill with no smiles or senses, blaming my eyes for the shine the stars grant to the night, thanking the moon for shading herself on such an appropriate way, for such an unimportant ocasion.

A shillouette glimmers beneath the halo of a street lamp, the chasing ghost I know so well.

I stop my feet and sigh at the wind, wondering what went wrong. In sinking myself to the world where there was no hope nor happiness, I had sought to free myself from that day that never was

That meeting, that never happened,

That would still continue creeping in my brain,

from even the best hollowness I could shape.