aim(less)

another late night
watching late-night sitcoms
on fuzzy static stolen cable

and then, listening to the quiet calm hush
of cars driving on snow

imagine

maybe tomorrow
now: cold feet under my covers (in the literal sense)
and a bruised toenail, blackened
calloused, so that they don't feel the tenderness
an early morning, but its already morning.
a late night that has passed.
my cold shoulders are pressed against the damp wall.
behind it is an alleyway
and there is a door, leading out to the street.
above, the two buildings connect to each other,
but i don't really know the neighbours.
i imagine that they are home at this time of night,
safely under cozy covers, unconscious to world
as this house is awake
as i imagine what is happening elsewhere. somewhere
anywhere but where i lie.
it is almost over here.
almost finished, completed.
tomorrow: new imaginations.

old imaginations. they always remain.
this blues-ey song.
this slightly off-key beautiful voice.
those words that mean nothing to me.
but so much.
i'm going, maybe up. maybe down.
maybe i'm just moving sideways, comfortably.
but looking uncomfortable.
no, its an awkward stillness.
and that's ok for now, because in a moment i will be asleep.
and i won't feel or think about this business anymore.
i hope i can fall to dream tonight.
i see my hands, i see my hands.
i don't sleep to dream (i NEVER remember my dreams, not since I was 6 years old)
i don't sleep to dream, i sleep to forget reality
in silence.

untitled

naked christmas trees on sidewalks

bare ground, footsteps scraping pebbles

a single red berry on the wind stunted bush

photograph

i don't want to be
like her
your sister.

these people are
judgemental
i am filled with
these emotions

intense
unclear

i am so happy some few moments
when i realize
i am good
i will be O.K.

shit. i can't focus
these days.
shut your mouth
shut my mind.

eye contacts.
shared
recognition
tell me, where is the ocean?

high,
me, i'm floating
somewhere.

i don't know where.

pen on paper.
brain to words.
words to meaning.

my heart
Palpitating.

late at night. so i can't close my eyes without fear.
skipping beats
or double time.

and in my mind: Kevin Carter's photograph
image
i can't breathe when i see it

when i dream.
when i dream.
i dream.

my black and white striped self.

the star on my sky.
the ceiling of my mind.

they wonder why i'm silent.
i'm sad when they reinforce their height.

filling me with negative
sensations.
they are not better or pure.

no one is.

this small pad of paper.
my mother's old notebook.
stolen lists.
with my words of what?
(of this
of you
of me
of me and you)

those days
these days.

are they different?
i think, yes.
only because i am relizing my self.
my weak ness
my hun ger
my friends.

distant
driving north
and east.

its early.
but i never sleep.
its late.

too much of something
or nothing.

sparkling wine.
why?
to do this, i can write.
with those flames sucked inwards
i feel my emotions again.

all of their faces
these recognitions
but i know none of them really
and surely: none of them know me

it is fabulous.
clarity in moments of intense fog.

where?
it doesn't matter as long as its not here.
who?
you.

connections

no icicles melt this year
my memory freezes instead

out the backdoor, the cat escapes.
in the backdoor of my heart, he remains.

"see you"
see me.

teacups, coffee rings, emptied ash trays.
full garbage can. full fridge.

flash frozen veggies,
damp wind,
stale smells,
chirpy laughs,
small conversations.
woolen mittens warm my strangely cold hands.

they shake. these fingers. polished, painted unnatural colours.
gems.
vessels.

seemingly unconnected.
data, visions, senses.
like veins, these slide shows, flashing memories
they are related.

melting into eachother.

and like a circle weaving in and out
within and without
like smoke curling backwards
a reversal of the wind,
i see you from here.

there.
miles away in so many ways, distance time and feeling
you said "see you"
see me too.