A love letter to my Now

I wonder if consciousness is the programming language of the universe
And if floccinaucinihilipilification sites of bloodshed speak a word of the unconscioence

Proverbiosa

What's in the bone comes out in the flesh
So put all your eggs in the same basket
Wallowing in the glances of the turkish eyes that interpret coffee dreams
My hands are full of the empty-ness in you
With a pen I brought you from San Francisco
and warm coffee so take me whenever and wherever you want
While I am wallowing in a handful of empty turkish gazes interpreting dreams in the morning after coffee
This Wine...
is making me sleepless in a sea of tranquility
And I take pride in that pessimism
It's been sometime I haven't been touched in the heart, or smelled in color