Day 1868, windows.
Day 1866, searching.
For this
I have to go up
while ignoring
~
the monolithic structure
I have to scale
~
so when I am there
I can search
while opening doors
for clues
to my past
Day 1858, leave it
You have to leave
some things behind
~
if you go to fast
for your loved one
Day 1853, starring at myself.
Disorientated I stare at the faces I see every day
like the years I spend there before
where just a dream
I woke up from
just now
~
it only lasted a few seconds
but I still remember this
all these years later
Day 1852, going nowhere.
We wait a lot in life
waiting for a signal to go
~
standing still
with only our mind that tells us
this is the way you go
where you are now
~
where you stand still
Day 1839, handle it.
Can you give me a hand
when you look down
Day 1838, i freeze.
When I fall
I sometimes freeze
not knowing that hardness
easily shatters
Day 1834, turn away.
What do you see
when you look in the mirror
~
does it change
when the reflection is gone
Day 1832, down stream.
Full of energy I streamed down to a sea, driven by a need to go.
Halfway my journey, a cold eastern wind sung and gripped me, it took away the light and open sky, a barrier was composed, and a part of me conducted and stayed behind.
That part of me is for always lost, and will collapse the further I move away.
Some of it will follow me, eventually, but I will never know, when I will meet it again.
Day 1831, B&W.
I sometimes wish that I could see the world in black and white.
A neat dividing line through every gradation.
Just black and white.
Day 1826, hiding.
I saw you standing
close to the crossing
but I was not looking
at you
~
its your likeness
I recognize
while I stare
at what’s hiding
me
~
I don’t move
away
hoping you
will
Day 1816, duck.
With some
you see from the outside
how the inside is holding
together
without looking
through their open
portholes
~
it’s the brick wall
that supports all that weight
and the cannons
they bear
Day 1788, windows.
I wander
in my head
~
searching for a view
through a window in the rooms
facing the side
where the sun goes down
~
as if beauty
or the hope of a next day
beholds an answer
Day 1786, bloom.
I landed with my face down
In a cold reality
of dead weeds and earth
~
when I looked up
just in front of me
I saw a gray flower
unopened
~
I wondered
when is the right time to bloom
Day 1785, and far.
I saw the whole sky
and far in the distance
it was beautiful
Day 1783, exit?
