I am setting off a reply to the hinterlands......

Poetry is, what I stick to, when it rains so much outside that it turns me cold even in the comfort of a warm blanket wrapped all around me. You don't understand because how could you? The absence of roaming the streets alone, so late at night that I almost forget quite a number of times that it has been raining within me for centuries now and I am cold. And I am the haze. And I am capturing it, all of what you told me to. All of what I fall short every time. Because I don't have colours. Because I can't tell the difference. Haze is just haze. It is only haze. It is just that and that is it. Just a solution and I always settle down. I like watching you afloat above me. It's like watching the stars. I acknowledge quite easily the indefinite. 

Poetry brings back to me all that I cannot keep. Memories who fail the test of time. I can hear you, all the silence after your words. Here. It turns me into a whore as I let everyone devour me. Consume every bit of me. So much so that when we make our castles in boxes, I think your eyes are the home I have been searching for and it's in quite a state of collapse I tell you.