when you are away and this longing comes over
me, i let my thoughts run all over you
till you come back. it doesn’t matter, not so much,
only a little of the quiet hysteria of your absence
remains
an awkward tickle
in the heart.

i laugh
but then i laugh out of nothing, out of spite
as you seem to have recalled
all the extensions and exultations
of your love, now, quickly folded up

while i, finding you retreating,
find it all points to me:
that what i have loved in you
retreats now in me,
you harbour no more love or grief

departure, Arthur Yap

“Was then not all sorrow in time, all self-torment and fear in time? Were not all difficulties and evil in the world conquered as soon as one conquered time, as soon as one dispelled time?”

— Hermann Hesse, Siddhartha

If I go to sleep, there is the danger of waking up.

You told me to take care of my own feelings but it seems I’m not very good at it.

There is no proof that I am still

 

(Alive)