In his or her own way, everyone I saw before me looked happy. Whether they were really happy or just looked it, I couldn’t tell. But they did look happy on this pleasant early afternoon in late September, and because of that I felt a kind of loneliness new to me, as if I were the only one here who was not truly part of the scene.
We know that in September, we will wander through the warm winds of summer’s wreckage. We will welcome summer’s ghost.
for all I can really do is
in September’s rain
soaking it all in
holding on to poetry
for dear life.
It takes courage to stay delicate
in a world this cruel.
Thats not a bad word, hate and war are bad words, f*ck isnt.
It’s so strange how life works: You want something and you wait and wait and feel like it’s taking forever to come. Then it happens and it’s over and all you want to do is curl back up in that moment before things changed.
Books are finite, sexual encounters are finite, but the desire to read and to f*ck is infinite; it surpasses our own deaths, our fears, our hopes for peace.
As you simplify your life, the laws of the universe will be simpler; solitude will not be solitude, poverty will not be poverty, nor weakness weakness.
Despair is a narcotic. It lulls the mind into indifference.
You’ll know her more by your questions than by her answers. Keep looking at her long enough. One day you might see someone you know.