(no subject)
train station the other morning. it was cold, and so solitary in the fog. your steps sort of echo on the smooth steps down into the darkness. i hate wishing for things, for more things, things to fill me, things to surround me, the kind of craving you can never lose in the city. i feel like discarding everything except for my love, and moving away.
" the comets / have such a space to cross / Such coldness, forgetfulness / So your gestures flake off -
Warm and human / then their pink light / Bleeding and peeling
Through the black amnesias of heaven / Why am I given
These lamps, these planets / Falling like blessings, like flakes
Six sided, white / On my eyes, my lips, my hair
Touching and melting / Nowhere. "