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Spaghetti knots

at least

at last

this first

lending itself to a second second

though you have dined full of emptiness

and the paradoxes of making sense

the listlessness of it of explaining it of talking

about talk and how it isn’t much of how

which you are told is hi in another language

which you never learnt in low

for you always had time

*

breathing is

sometimes all that is left

when you are breathless

and worse

when you are not

waiting for her

to say something once more

that’ll give air to this expiring

*

there will be nothing

harder than

doing it

doing it done

except of course

not doing it

and listening everyday

to what there will be

*

it is true

what they say

that there are too many

of us

but not enough

for us to feel

as though

there are enough saying

that we are the truth

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About kacperniburski

I am searching for something in between the letters.

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