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Spaghetti knots

o ll o

the following is ollo, which isn’t a word but are letters needing to break out, that are full themselves, that are a blank face looking at you wondering if you are doing the same, that are a mirrored thought that you carry with you daily in slurps of coffee and occasional doodles that tells you to do something different, to wash the dirt off, to get dirtier yet, to stand up, right now, tired and lazy and hopeful, and move to the the that is is.

or maybe i am just a little ollo.

*

i like to think

i was good to you

but i suppose

i forget

the every day

forgetting

that lead you

to be good

thoughtlessly

into

i was

i was

i was

*

did you create beauty

today

for you are it

 

did you make it better yet still

for you are more than it

still not still in

yesterday

 

did you reach tomorrow

for the first time in humanity’s history

and sit silent

like an astronaut in space

reaching out for the earth

with its people who have

stars in their eyes

*

how many

forgotten many

have survived in the long

time it took to make them

 

how long

is a seconds doubt

 

how does one

read more than

what is written

write more than

what is read

 

how do you wait there

full with knowing

that you will go on

even if you won’t

where one day

people will discuss

how you wore orange

on a day so blue

and how then

they knew what it meant

to be

them

*

all after

it is not love

it is fear of how

easy it is to kill a man

if you teach them

to hate themselves

and how easy it is

then

to die instead

with the manly

idea that

it wasn’t love

after all

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About kacperniburski

I am searching for something in between the letters.

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