rolling in the deep

and everyday i’m fucking drowning — or at least, i think this is what drowning feels like: fighting to breathe and stay afloat. the despair is crushing, debilitating; each week is protracted, unadulterated suffering until i clamber to the safety of a weekend which is woefully far too short for any actual recovery. i cannot remember the last time i had a peace of mind.
all too often i wonder about an alternate path i could/would/might have taken.

you offered me a blade of grass

Valentine
Carol Ann Duffy

Not a red rose or a satin heart.

I give you an onion.
It is a moon wrapped in brown paper.
It promises light
like the careful undressing of love.

Here.
It will blind you with tears
like a lover.

It will make your reflection
a wobbling photo of grief.

I am trying to be truthful.

Not a cute card or a kissogram.

I give you an onion.
Its fierce kiss will stay on your lips,
possessive and faithful
as we are,
for as long as we are.

Take it.
Its platinum loops shrink to a wedding-ring,
if you like.
Lethal.
Its scent will cling to your fingers,
cling to your knife.

and when everything is gone it will still cling to your life.

today i went on a pilgrimage. it wasn’t for closure nor remembrance; i guess sometimes we just like any excuse or chance to wallow. i didn’t have to look for places in my memory to visit — mostly everywhere i went some form of memory jumped out at me like it was yesterday.

i tried the chinese calligraphy pens in muji and i went through each test pad looking for things that were written from a time that seems so long ago. i wondered how frequently the staff bothered changing the test pads, because the words from back then weren’t there anymore. it’s difficult to believe that so much time has already gone by.

all these gaps left in my life; i try not to think about them much but i keep on feeling the emptiness between each finger.