Being and becoming.

There is no way that I will say that I know truly “What I want”, in almost any respect. I want to pursue happiness: in all sense of the meaning.  Happiness can be temporal (until the craving is fed). And it can be “long-lasting”, and as to what that may mean—I am unsure. Things I wanted last year, of both the standard of myself and out of people have changed—I think for the better, but regardless: my temporalities have altered and become either nonexistent or they are securing an existence within me.  Slowly, perhaps, “I” am becoming “Myself”.

The greater longevity a feeling, event, or presence something or someone has in their life: the more substantial the other becomes, is that not true?

I won’t pretend to understand myself in this moment, or what we were in the past, but what I am highly aware of is the significant presence that you once had within my life. I will not materially list off the most relevant parts of “us” and the strongest/ weakest points we endured: because that is like having wanderlust but suppressing those thoughts limiting yourself to tours of the dark. 

It is true that don’t know who I was or what we were, be it a love or a loss. But what I can comprehend is the sheer mass I feel in my heart/ soul/ and on my mind.

What can you do. What will I do?



Sometimes I just want to know where you are. Am I off the map--of your heart? 



Why were we told of our perfection? We knew of our wondrousness. Why wasn't a love like that worth fighting for? We knew too much. Are these questions forever, unanswered? One can only hope the answer is more than two letters, more than N+O.



Commit, like Françoise, to those two precious hours per day. Perhaps in the morning (the celestial hour)...to the writing of Flora. That seemingly never-ending-never-beginning "novel"idea of a novel.

Listen to the voices of my head, the questions I ask and demand, the sound of anguish, gall repugnance, rain against the house, take it all in, soaking my soul, pouring out of my eyes--down my eyelashes. I won't cry. I will pretend not to miss.


and the complications you could do without
when I kissed you on the mouth


"They penetrate into the recesses of nature, and show how she works in her hiding-places. They ascend into the heavens: they have discovered how the blood circulates, and the nature of the air we breathe. They have acquired new and almost unlimited powers; they can command the thunders of heaven, mimic the earthquake, and even mock the invisible world with its own shadows."



Get out of my mind

I like all of your eccentricities 


we only crossed paths

Not quite know whether I'll recover--it seems quite far off, perhaps in another life (like everything else was).  It wasn't forgettable, unnamable: just uncontrollable and finite. You were the sun & I the moon-and although we danced for love and other celestial occasions, we would forever be doing a dance across the sky-apart from one another, rarely eclipsing (agreeing), and not so often would we pass through each other's paths and find that fervent harmoniousness that we both deserve. 

We only crossed paths at dawn and dusk & that was not enough.


I vaguely remember a 4 am conversation about birds and the sun rising--do you too?

all things go

"Drove to Chicago// I was in love with the place-- in my mind."
-Sufjan Stevens

What could be said if you feel as though you've left a part of yourself somewhere else? Speckled across the greenscape/or skyscrapers of a city of immaculate momentum. Like in the belly of some great beast, he is waiting for more, because of his insatiable appetite, but yet the part is ready to be digested--we just need more (I just need more of Chicago).