Tuesday, January 5, 2016

Chaos: you, me, etc.

Objects

I want more but my mind is too dumb with drunkenness...

I am only able to hold on to your words when you are gone and then all I'm left with are pieces. Shall I try to put them together or leave them scattered like the brown eggshells you've had to step on to reach me?

Lying between these foreign sheets, in this darkness, I feel strangely safe despite the cavern of unknown. This transience will soon be but a spicy memory. You are saffron and cinnamon ginger and flavors I didn't know existed. You're like eating a cake with a stone in the center, breaking my teeth.

Stop holding on to you - I try to - I already feel linked like a chain around my neck.

I've already lost love but am I gaining any, here with you?

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