stranger's disease

"i wish i believed you when you said that this was my home"



diary entry

i have been having a hard time making the choices my consciousness needs to work itself through what's left of this year. i spent the whole of last month trying to recover from what the first half of the year left us. it's impossible to face a world where climate change is a neverending reality and i'm being consumed by someone else's bad management choices. i wish it was my mistake that could be fixed by saying i was sorry, but even writing these words is taking a harder time than i thought.
i used to read a lot and copy the style, i used to interact with stories long after they were gone. i read two books in the past two months. one was by aldous huxley, which i found dull, uninteresting; and the second was by alessandro baricco, which was fascinating. both of them were short stories, with shallow characters, but baricco's style is endaring; tales about silk being brought from japan, a string of love that consumes itself, a war that never happens, the figuration of the end of the world... it was as beautiful as a desert sunset. as beautiful as your skin.
on saturday we spent so much time talking about the depth of the mundane world we live in. there are no secrets between us so it demands conversation to transform itself. there's no hiding in the shadows, there's only a continuous stream of discussion. i have never been more in love with you that when we can talk about everything and nothing at the same time.




i spent too much without saying anything cause i guess nothing was happening, eh?
the lone writer
here i come



the rainforest is burning
and people hashtag it
i see it happen through the strings of time
and people hashtag it
it's just a sign of the time
how anyone with a space bar
can become a writer;
anyone with an enter bar
can become a poet;
anyone with good resolution
can become a photographer;
anyone with a good hashtag
can become the news reporter we need.
the rainforest is burning
the city keeps flooding
it's just how the tide flows
it will eventually carry us in



recurrent nightmares and a taste for mint tea

long entryways
high halls
i am hanging somewhere from above
in all the dreams:
    there's light, even from within
    there's dark, even from the inside
a sense of belonging into what is no longer mine
a body fills to be a cavity i can sleep in; no more progression
i draw a line into empty space
while i hear the songs that draw out my blood

it's immense
i have been dreaming of reclusion and secluded spaces
of dreams of unknown victims
every day i think about
what life would've been
without you




head rests on a chest
rises, unaware
unknown to man are still the depths.
with calm, now and again i explain
the meaningfulness of whales
how they recycle and cycle through time and space
their innate and immense ability to disperse

through time and sound i will collide
with species and humans alike
someone with soundness will understand
in its true light the meaning of the hug;

for one second awake i will childishly admit
that i am again in love with me,
how the fate has come into my hands
and molded itself right
into the shape of a body
i can now touch.




the summer is coming to a common end
it began, so i remember
while i was away from harm
in broken arms
in paradise, a promised land

i took a bus and
the sun setting chased away my fears
i was so tired when we began;
i am so tired now that the summer's ending

even when the sea is within me
even when your skin collates mine
when i'm nowhere but where i wish i'd be

the blood turns black and the mist follows,
a foggy dream unwound
a true nature unfolds in terraces we don't know of
and i say

the river and its sediments
will follow us wherever we go
it's just a matter of listening,
the heat will always be within



part iii

he said nothing
i said less.
then i left.
whatever happens between us happens
on the brink of destruction.
i only leap out of comfort when
i can think later.

always when the sea and the moon come to greet me.
she has been in my eyes this whole time.
that night she was somewhere quiet.

she's a rose, a quiet lagoon
a hidden treasure at the bottom of the sea;
he's a national anthem
he's the song my voice can sing

in the night they stay afloat
wondering what got us all together
how the strings can connect
and spin us in

i have stopped trying to guess the motions
i just take them in
let the tide take me
wherever i have to be



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