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Spaghetti knots

about what

help

i am alive

which has been problematic since

the beginning

when it was said with floppy light

that there was

only life or death

 

what about the in between

what about the night moon

wanting to caress your head

what about those who wonder

where all feelings come from

and if they can go back to that emtpying place

that must be beside the free samples of ice cream

and the knowledge that you and i

are going to spend the rest of our time together

in my head

 

what about the existential gap

filled with more than your legs or hairy sex

or the way to describe a colour without it

which incidentally is the same colour

of the gap

 

what about the awareness of what

is being done

but the unawareness to stop the unaware

from being done

 

what about the lost

the losing

the last

 

what about those who are not who they are

but instead are a lifetime of not living

with themselves

that spread like unfinished similes

 

what about being fine before you

gave me you

hope

the idea that i was greater

to love than love itself

 

what of the idols now dead

what of the fact that they would’ve hated me

what of me doing the same

which is hardly the same as them

still around and kicking

even if it is myself most days

 

what about the helpless

who are unsure how to

end

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About kacperniburski

I am searching for something in between the letters.

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