Thoughts from me, Stefanie Sere.







Why didnโ€™t they tell you

to straighten your necklace?

Grown up children back then;

they evolved only on the outside.

Porcelain dreams in your vapid gaze;

I wonder why they were broken.

Was it black and white back then?

Was it bleak and weak in your dreams?

Before the heaps of hurdles

were thrown atย you;

before all the shattered

windows (for your escape);

when your dreams collided into the

wall and your thoughts were thrusted.

You never allowed yourself anything;

ย flowers nipped by the frost.

I can smell your disappointment;

your regret lingers as you loiter.

Unmoved. Removed. I disapprove

of your unintentional episodes.

evening ball


round and red

you lay there torn apart

a crease, bare

left in the parking lot

my hands grip the handles

feel the cold

were you abandoned? Dropped?

were you old?

as i ride away, i

witness the brightest star


bouquets of twilight, far

flapping fowls

all leading the way home

Mr. Bowie, Ziggy Sir…


I cry. I sob, actually. I feel a loss for someone whom I have never met; someone who encouragedย me to remain different from the rest, and to keep on living in aย world of art and expression. I’m not too sure if I have ever felt this way about someone famous whoโ€™s died, but I do now. I had some of the best times with him, and he didnโ€™t even know it. Or, perhaps he did.

David Bowie, youโ€™ve joined me on many road trips; you had comforted me as I traveled down some dark and lonely roads (and will continue to do so). You had a hold on me with your freakness when I was just 14 years old, and I held you, with reverence.

As the world knows, there was something about you that struck the loudest chord which then reverberated in our hearts, in our minds and in our bodies.ย 

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