the circle never breaks

​not being alone is overrated

when you start remembering the past as the good old days

when you float away from yourself

when you stop watching movies at dawn

when you don’t have any strangers to love

when instead of greeting the sunrise every day, you find yourself in an ordinary-square-grownup’s wet dream 

you are not growing up, you are dying

i am

six years ago, on a july morning, i decided i wanted to marry you, so i will never have to spend another july morning without you

i haven’t spent any july mornings since

 

I remember the first time i saw the sea

a restaurant terrace overlooking the beach

small square tables fighting to keep their white tablecloths in the morning breeze

and the sea at the background stretching endlessly blue to the horizon

the sun gliding on the surface and the water winking back with millions of tiny sparkles shimmering like glitter

i remember it very clearly

i was three

but it was by no means overwhelming or astonishing

i wasn’t surprised or scared or even impressed by the proportions of this novelty

i was reuniting with an old friend from another life

just coming home

expendable passion

what are we looking for?

 

the moment, after walking in the sand, when you step on solid ground and can walk again

the moment you finish a poem and can breath again

the moment you hear your favorite song on the radio

the moment the headache is gone and you can sleep again

 

i've always felt, if only i could sing, i could have this

could let everything out and let everything go

 

i've been going through things, hoping they would be the solution

and they were, for the time being

like the moment you can run in a dream

chasing the small conquests of preliminary culminations

 

after my thorough seeking, 

nothing is the truth

and everything is

there has never been a right answer

to anything