resignation.

I sigh my sigh of sighs, thinking that music helps while I watch you in my mind, my stolen catharsis,  breaking into a smile.

And I am breaking even if music helps, and I watch the horizon go by.
Because it is much easier. Much easier to break than to stay. 

paris.

they say
is a wonder.

but a disappointing wonder.
of dog shit and expensive shit.

do you still want to go? with me. To Paris
at 15 euros for two coffees.

your upside down Louvre,
with that curved Monalisa smirk,
and your silence during my silence.
is Paris.

and free coffees
in the office.

mixed in with your secret spices.

is a wonder.

forgetting time.

I am the one who waits for you.
I am in between remembering that dream and waking.
I wait for you there. 
and wait for you, still.
seconds before you eyes close. 

Killer.

A sudden pang of longing hit me, of riding the metro at night, singing along with Brandon Flowers while fighting the current existential angst. Then I find myself moving along with the crowd having a separate sense of urgency. 

I walk slowly towards inevitability, the curbside lined with thoughts of jumping off the ledge of this certainty. 

The longing passes, except for the ache. Mr. Flowers sang that dreams aren't what they used to be. It's now dark again. I'm there. I'm always there in the end.

If the answer is no, can I change your mind?

I carry it with me.

there's this pain inside.
it slips in and out of time.
displaced, dislocated.
and settles in the same pressure points.
load-bearing posts.
and everything blurs
in the dust of the
post-collapse.
it also gets harder to breathe.

I am afraid of the coming calm.

good night.

effortless pain.
it is suddenly there,
unwanted and unwelcome. honest and brutal.
no blood but flayed still.

timeless, ageless 
but perhaps for the unfeeling.

the wretched.
the resigned.
and the compliant.

the pain is a companion,
a balance for the abyss. that still beckons 
not to stare, but
to leap.
for the faithless.
the guiltless.

but pain is a tether.
and stays.
the abyss can only wait,

like the endless night that it is.

8 centimeters away.

have you seen me lately. 

there's the feeling of fading away again, or something very close to the feeling. 

even if emotions tether me, the sense of vanishing holds a certain allure.
and completeness.

"I remember me
and all the little things
that make up a memory...

and these days I feel like I'm fading away..."

have you looked at me lately. have you held me lately. 


(020424)