(no subject)
when you sat in the cockpit of a little automobile,
i thought you looked cute in your glasses,
grown-up, proffesional like
with the fingers of a child.
later i found that when you spoke
your words blew through me like rainstorms,
and all the world was transposed
over you like a glossy coat,
and you wear out your walking shoes
and because May seems to be less than June,
and because i haven't written a letter to Hokkaido in three months,
i think
i'm in love with you, a little bit.
the world is full of passions
and degraded love.
the world is full of mirrors
reflecting things above,
the world is full of tiny things
all collected on your windowsill,
the world is full of sorrow,
everything is sorrow,
it is a distinct and Buddhist truth
that sorrow is life and life sorrow,
but some of these times when i am with you
i put away Buddhist things
and begin to feel joy and something opposite of
sorrow and empty,
you and i are the endlessly drumming collective head of Buddhakind.
i thought you looked cute in your glasses,
grown-up, proffesional like
with the fingers of a child.
later i found that when you spoke
your words blew through me like rainstorms,
and all the world was transposed
over you like a glossy coat,
and you wear out your walking shoes
and because May seems to be less than June,
and because i haven't written a letter to Hokkaido in three months,
i think
i'm in love with you, a little bit.
the world is full of passions
and degraded love.
the world is full of mirrors
reflecting things above,
the world is full of tiny things
all collected on your windowsill,
the world is full of sorrow,
everything is sorrow,
it is a distinct and Buddhist truth
that sorrow is life and life sorrow,
but some of these times when i am with you
i put away Buddhist things
and begin to feel joy and something opposite of
sorrow and empty,
you and i are the endlessly drumming collective head of Buddhakind.