There are still some corners of the world that you can disappear into. Physical ones, real ones, fully tangible, byte-free. Ones discovered on urban hikes, rambles, thoughtless walks, tiny adventures through familiar landscapes.
They fuck you up, your mum and dad.
They may not mean to, but they do.
They fill you with the faults they had
And add some extra, just for you.
You want to make the world scream and hollow
because you fear you are nothing,
you are an unextraordinary,
unaborted caged regret.
There are some words that feel smooth coming up my throat and delicious on my tongue, but buoy is not one of them. It looks like it makes no sense and sounds like it should be said some other way, but it’s the meaning that’s most pleasant and runs so deep inside me like a thick raw honey that coats and soothes all nerves.
I hate to be told “Smile, you look mean”.
So, what if I am?
Love is a buoy shaped like a triangle,
equal on all sides,
whose three points are Us joined from two whole “I”s.