in the event of love
or catastrophe:

take flight.

simply
you set free in me
that which would live fully.

the body i live with
is not comfortable with me,
expressed in a voice
without sound
that is an occasional harmony.

escaping the body
i live with
into fantasy
becomes just as tiring
and repetitive
and repetitive
as the days of flesh,
and produces only blank maps
and nebulous passion,
little ecstasy in comparison
and not even a trace of edifice.

the body i live with
does not appreciate
the thoughts that keep it restless
in the early hours,
the ones i won't part with.

in the waking night,
the body's muscles ache,
but secretly,
its imagination gallops.
crossing distance, never reaching you.

the sun
is always setting somewhere.
we stay put,
we're not going anywhere.
please let me keep saying it.

i've spent my life so far
collecting advice
i refuse to follow.

what beauty there must be
in the lines
we forgot to write down,
for what beauty
is not forgotten anyway?

yours, yet, lest you forget.

what a terrible
time to be alive, truly,
thank goodness for all
the wonderful people here
who just make it bearable.

the eternal truth
of your departing beauty
supervenes all that i am.
beyond the fierce horizon,
a path with you, or fatigue?

i must come to learn
what is essential, that is
to say to learn to
listen
much harder.

i keep having these
moments of transcendental clarity
where i realise how lame i am.

it feels like you died
and now
i'm afraid of ghosts.

where does the soul come from?
from between.

to go somewhere, you must
leave something behind.

i let you go
like the smoke from my lungs.
something remains.

our time:
it must be
the evening of the days of men.

what became of only me?
tonight
is quiet.

in every field
let language be the bees
to our flowering ideas.

perhaps
we only love
for a few hours of our lives.
(perhaps that is
more than enough.)

sick of this emptiness.
perhaps i'll *** flowers.

other people
make you so miserable,
but you've still got
yourself
to make you even more miserable.

your eyes are a storm.
the houses i called shelter
fly away like dry leaves.
better a disaster than
to never have been subject.

so far from her
lover's embrace,
the sky is weeping.

how are you?
who knows?

i can't get you out of my system,
you poison.

you and i
united in our solitude.

twisted fire
sinks into my blood;
how easy it is,
now, to forget the world.