Whenever I plunge into memories there’s always the feeling that something’s missing when I come back up
I weigh myself but there’s no differenece
Then I realise that something’s not merely missing but replaced.
What’s missing is part of myself, dissolved in the water
And what’s been added in its place is gunk
I live in a different universe than you
On clear days
I can make out the back of my head
Sticks on me like yellowed posters
Of music bands who once thought
Time would do them a favour
Hope has the scent of cologne that overstayed on the skin
I try to find one thought to ease me into sleep yet there is none.
“There is no sanctuary”
On rare occasions my dreams take me to better worlds than this one.
Leaving the restaurant near-drunk (or drunk, the limits on this kind of thing are kinda subjective) I fall behind a young couple heading for the exit. The man is blond and bulky but in a muscular kind of way. From the pastel colours of his t shirt and shorts I place him firmly in Northern Europe – they seem to love that shit up there. His girlfriend – too young to be married in my view – is in black dress ending somewhere above her knees, wearing matching high heels. There’s a moment when she stops and lifts her left foot up, probably some kind of problem with the heels – bound to be when they are that high. For a moment I think i see a tattoo on her foot which draws my eyes down there and I’m in no hurry to lift them up again. Fortunately her boyfriend doesn’t notice. I used the word “think” because moments later I can’t seem to find it; maybe I’ve imagined it in my half-drunken-to-drunken haze, an artifact of seeing tattoos in just about every woman out there. Maybe it was in a spot which was not visible from behind. In any case, my attention quickly fell on her face which was beautiful and somewhat spanish-looking, like a more beautiful version of Penelope Cruz. The two exchanged some sentences – probably related to the heel problem – yet I couldn’t make out what they were saying; hell, I couldn’t even make out what language they were using which I found particularly upsetting as I’m usually quite good at that kind of thing. They could be talking Valerian for all I knew.
In the car park our paths parted, theirs definitely going to a much better place than mine.
Just before getting into the car I imagined myself surrounded by countless towers reaching up to space, as if I wanted Gods to witness the moment.
I’ve been staring at my fingers a lot as of late
As if they belong to someone else.
Drowning in a sea of internet videos.
I seem to be able to perceive Hubble’s Law without the need of telescopes
With every passing night I feel the distance between me and and everything else getting wider