i’m a hundred different people with you
and neither one of us can figure out the truth



and i guess if you asked
i’d say that i was the amalgam of all the times
you wanted to call but didn’t
all the times you thought about me
and your mood shifted
every day you couldn’t get up and do the dishes
and every night you prayed to a God you didn’t believe in
screaming at the void to fulfil forgotten wishes



place a lot of pressure on myself to be happy
even though life doesn’t care; it just keeps happening
rivers keep flowing
and the sun keeps glowing
and you keep growing
even when you’re sad;
you keep growing



“bad luck to talk on these rides”
listened to my favourite song too many times
words don’t sound quite the same anymore
and i’m not the same person that I was before

trying to keep still but that involves movement
guess i’m always still in another dimension
where I’m free from desire, ego and pretension
and the words exist without mention

clearly this isn’t all that there is
clearly all that there is isn’t this



the water of self drips
perpetually through my fingertips
your palms, held outreached
always grasping for the better bits
our eyes cross paths through the slit in sunlit trees
i send out a message, but it gets lost
blown about by the breeze

i guess you’ll never know
and i guess i can never tell you
that the first time i saw you
was the last time things felt new



twirling life round my fingertips in the morning
then the clouds roll over
and things get slower
and meaning falls through the cracks in my skin
don’t know what existence i’ll now find within



killing off who i was yesterday
perpetually in pursuit of the better days
believing wholeness rests upon the ocean of tomorrow
promising freedom from anxiety, emptiness and sorrow

but tomorrow’s always one day ahead
always one more restless night in bed
always one more day trapped inside this head
guess you’ll have to find solace in the present instead


By em

a sometimes poet, sometimes painter, always philosopher

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