notes

i must tell you that when the printer is throbbing in synch
while my pulse thumps to the beat of the bird's cries
i can't help but think that we are a web linked by sounds,
feelings, and tastes
slowly tearing away.

memories just never leave,

they are stuck just beneath the surface,

they stick with you and leave prints on your skin,

they fill your ribs and replace your breath,

they empty you while seeming to fill you,

you cling to them, to prevent yourself from drowning,

  they                     destroy

    you.

they told me that death was not fathomable by humans.

literally: that imagining yourself still and silent

and unmoving for too long could turn you into a messy

excuse of a human.

i guess that's why i like thinking about infinity 

when my life is only held together by a few strings (ripped at the seams).

wisps of thought

What I'm writing, here and there, isn't all that good.
But at least I'm writing again and at least I've brought myself to face the reality of life.
And I'm OK.
Here are some snippets of my thoughts.


and you are alive and your head pounds but it is a good kind of pounding.
like the rhythm of your favourite song
boom boom
you can't get your head around the largeness of it all,
and you think that no one could take that away from you
and gradually you grow older
and your head hurts, but not like it used to.

/

when your mind is numb, you can justify.
the poverty, the pain, the un in unfortunate
push it away like a bad smell.
"why should I care, it has nothing to do with me?"
one can also create when the mind is just mush and it's late, and everything becomes much
clearer
maybe that's why the numb survive and the fiery don't.

/

love should never be a reflex.
"I love you"
"me too"

/

when my feet find which parts of the wooden floor creak and when they purposely step on these parts,
I wonder if my life plays the same game with me.