Medium-Well by Me

Below is the Edited version of Medium-Well (by me)…. Original (by me) here –>

You said my Love sounded premature.

Well, that’s how I like my Love: Rare


You must like yours Well-Done?

Cooked through.

You’d never get sick.

No risk.

Just chew.

I like my love Rare.

I want to see Juice.






At least at the beginning.

I’m not saying we can’t cook it through.

But I want to start with some Blood.

I remember the last night I saw you.

Your heart felt cooked.

I could tell.
Not the week before.

The week before – medium.

One night it was even medium-rare.


Sprinkled with Psilocybin.

But that night, that night you’d been through.

I can’t uncook you.

I can try to cut through.
I might even get somewhere.

But, I’d hurt myself.

Tough hearts aren’t easy.

I’m not that sharp.

And then,


After everything,

You’d still be well-done

But I’d be injured.
Even scarred.
God forbids it.
He told me.

I’ve heard rumour though:
That hearts can be uncooked.

I don’t know how.

But I’ve heard tales.

The only catch is…

You have to do it yourself.

I bet it’s expensive.
I couldn’t afford it.
That’s why I’ve kept mine Rare.

But you!

You have time!
And you have money!

If I were you I’d look into it.

I’d fly to India, Tibet, Holland or Dubai.
And ask if anyone knows a guy.
That knows about a Rare heart.

That I could trade in for mine.


Love Scripts

Human beings have so much excess love that we write songs about strangers.

We create scripts about unseen beings.

That’s allĀ ourĀ Love.

Rather be a Rock

I want to write.

For You

But I’d rather write

For me.

I’d like to open the pages

And Breathe.

But I still feel pressure

So much pressure

All around me.

Pressure to speak.

Pressure to reply.

Pressure makes Diamonds.

Diamonds make our brothers die.

I’d rather be a rock.

I’d rather be a Rock.