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Spaghetti knots


what was always wanted

was to not ask what

to have something said once

against the milk of understanding

that the earth knows from the sun

the seasons from death

the way that even here

in the comfort of this home

assembled from years of the promise of more

you will leave to the puddle of strangers

that too knows that silent comprehension

of distance

when the moon pulls on it

during its daily inevitable



i am tired from the years i have yet to live

where i will realize after too many nights and not enough days

that i need not always be good


i do not have to scrap my knees on the ground

to put my head under the water in order to feel the pull of the moon


i can never learn to swim

i can snore for days or months

i can be a seagull that will ride deep laughter above the sea

and still eat the garbage you will leave after your day at the beach

spent unwinding


no sunlight will hold me in the cool hug

there are winters that people also somehow enjoy


this white mess is what i mean

i mean not to be mean

i will sit in the melting in between that destruction of every spring

calling to the morning birds and wilderness equally

that burning will come fruit may not

but even if you may not make it to this ballad blossoming

there will be another of everything

including you

About kacperniburski

I am searching for something in between the letters. Follow my wordpress or my IG (@_kenkan)


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