Maybe I was wrong
though I can’t see it yet
tried not to force it
didn’t think I was
maybe I lied to myself
and to you
and to everyone I know
maybe I’m not fire
maybe we aren’t lit
maybe this story is brief
maybe I shouldn’t even be here
maybe I’m being dramatic
maybe I finally realised the truth
I was being dramatic
now I’m being real
maybe it’s an idea
I’ve had a lot of bad ideas
maybe no one will ever
appreciate my efforts
I’ll always be poor
always alone
maybe I’m sick
maybe the world is alright
just not for me
I turned my back
and all backs turned on me
maybe it’s time for change
radical and pained
but this day should have been different
I played it out too many times
maybe it’s my fault
always have to tell stories
the world doesn’t need stories
I don’t need them
neither do you
I’ll always be wrong
always misunderstood
maybe my feelings scare me
I mean the real me
this isn’t it
It was never it
just another narrative I created
like God who overtook nature
and we forgot the truth
forgot instinct and honesty
lost a sense
like I lost you
somewhere in the last few weeks
maybe I’m too old
too damaged
self-inflicted hate
self-hating inflictions
a disease like the ones
that killed the birds
and the bears
they all drowned
forgot how to fly
only sharks remained
they’ll always be here
always were
not my fiction
like everything else
like the stripes we wear
a shitty disguise
while we forgot the essence
and I forgot the veracity
forgot the phoenix
the chimera
and the mapinguari
lost my beauty along
with my hair
and now I’m just broken
sad, fucked and broken
and we are broken
and there’s no way to fix me
to fix us and to fix this
I’m not enough
I want to set you on fire
need someone to set on fire
and if I can’t then I’ll always
be empty in this sweaty dark
useless and untrusting
afraid of the reasons why
breathlessly depressed
lungs tight and head fuzzy
waiting for dawn
when I hope things will change
when I hope I’ll realise this is just
another nightmare
like the one I had where you left me
because I need to go
I need to be gone
this isn’t me
this isn’t me
I’m not me
I’ll never be again
loved again
sure again
limbo till the end
and limbo is tiresome
limbo makes me fight
limbo retains the pain
addicted to it
unrest like my grandmother said
and now she’s resting
far from here
on her death bed
and I on mine
but I’m too afraid
fear was never me
and now it is
and that’s why
this is so fucking wrong
no more tranquillity
because I was ‘loss’
afraid of myself forever
afraid it’ll never be better
maybe I’m done
radically done
maybe we aren’t
but maybe
it’s a story I can tell
one day
in a place far from here
because I ran out of time
we killed time
I killed her
and I killed me
and now I’m killing you
and I say one thing
mean another
mean nothing
mean something
that once was
and now isn’t
but maybe when
I tell this story
you can tell it with me
hold my hand
look lovingly across a table
in the distance
a mirage of what this is
and tell it with me
it’s all I hold onto now
September night
our summer a scrapbook
I’ll always flick through
but done and gone
and as you sleep
I cry and I ponder
write and look out
at rain and fog
that was there the day I met you
never let it melt and disperse
in spite of all these words
fuck them and fuck me
I’ll love you endlessly
find a way
to light you again
I’ll be the spoon
you bend
the truth
you pretend
was just a beautiful dream
that keeps on repeating
as the world grows older
and you and I together
with it
won’t matter that
the backs are all turned
that part of my ambience
is long gone
because your back
will be turned with me
we’ll be making our
own ambience
our own sense
it’s all I ever asked for
all I ever was.