People want to hear songs with the words they’re afraid to say.
I’ve heard so many prayers about finding love that sometimes
it feels like everybody has a chapel living inside of them.
And it’s always the same prayer: ‘I want a love that makes my heart race and a love that is simple. I want a love that turns me into somebody who never feels like they have to pray again. I want a love that could make an apricot stone soften and god’s spine crumble.’
I wonder who answers these prayers and whether
the chapels inside these people are slowly turning into morgues.
Sometimes I hear the bell of my own chapel ringing
as if there’s a wedding taking place between the two
parts of my ribcage because they are starting to close up
and turn into barriers.
I feel footsteps of grave diggers dancing in circles on my
veins as their shovels bang headstones like steel drums.
So I desperately start to pray:
‘I want a love that makes a boulder speeding down a
hill feel stable when it’s under my feet. I want a love that
sometimes stays behind me while I am thrift shopping
and smiles at me while I’m too busy looking for things
that are most probably not there.
I want a love that is wrong in the good ways
I want a love that is right in the right ways.
I want a love that is awake in the quiet ways
I just want a love that stays.’
I experience alternately two nights; one bad and one good. Most often I am in the very darkness of my desire; I know not what it wants, good itself is an evil to me, everything resounds, I live between blows, my head ringing; I am blinded by attachment to things and emotions. But sometimes too, it is another night; I think quite calmly about the other, as the other is; I suspend any interpretation; I enter into the night of non meaning; desire continues to vibrate (the darkness is transluminous), but there is nothing I want to grasp; this is the Night of non-profit, of subtle, invisible expenditure: I am here, sitting simply and calmly in the dark interior of love.
She wasn’t bitter. She was sad, though. But it was a hopeful kind of sad. The kind of sad that just takes time.
The bells were ringing in the dale
And men looked up with faces pale;
Then dragon’s ire more fierce than fire
Laid low their towers and houses frail.
I am struggling
A lot. With everything.
Like, I feel lost and really confused.
I don’t think I have felt quite like this
Since I was young and sixteen and blue.
It’s like I’ve reached a fork
In the road
But I can’t move one inch from
This place where I am frozen
I could go in any direction
But instead, I go nowhere
Because staying here feels safer
Than gambling on any one direction
Suddenly, I realize that
I am just as much of a coward
As I ever was
And growing up is just