performative desire

you can have whatever is left of me

bring small comforts with you everywhere you go. most don't need to be physical items: when feeling uncomfortable or anxious, slow down and take a moment to feel the warmth of your clothes around your body; to observe how softly the light bounces off certain buildings; a wild bird grooming itself (imagine its relief); a warm goodbye between acquaintances in the street; take a moment to find the one thing that feels nice (or felt shortly before, or will feel soon) and hold onto it tight, let it keep you afloat. pick the invisible, ripe fruit of gratitude and compassion which grows even in the most hostile of environments

still I miss the times when we would talk late at night, across immense distances, all wrapped up in cable wires and brimming with delusions to share. I wonder what moon the loners howl to these days

news from further along the road: it's still all about compassion and patience. I can hold your hand as we endure

sometimes I sit still and let the ghosts of all the lives I've left behind claw me apart entirely. then I patiently pick up all the pieces and take pleasure in seeing that I still take up the same space as before

the crucial step is being labeled as NAN (Not A Narc)

who planted some stranger's desires in you?

you taught me the pleasures of the mundane and how to rid myself of the shame of it. still wondering whether it is any good

we are the maggots that spawned from God's rotting corpse. we hold the divine and its terrifying, contradictory tragedy and are painfully ignorant of it

il mondo non mi risponde più. quando ti parlo la voce è la stessa di quando ti ascolto

are you waiting for a chance to give yourself completely?

it's been so quiet for so long. will you talk to me?

I've seen beyond and I know how to get there. but I'd like to stay and play a little longer

I thought I'd be content with just the dreaming of it. the wanting. but life is always too much, above and beyond