Sometimes,
doing the right thing
is the absolute worst thing you could ever do to yourself.
Sometimes, I’m the mess.
Sometimes, I’m the broom.
On the hardest days,
I have to be both.
Let me give you some advice: Try to approach things without preconceived ideas, without supposing you already know everything there is to know about them. Get that trick down and you’ll be surprised at what’s really all around you.
My favorite sweater.
You are my favorite sound. You are the random thoughts that I think while I cook. You are my favorite sweater, my favorite bottle of perfume. You are the irrational, chaotic mess that my mind is.
If I had to close my eyes and pick a random dish from the menu, it would be you. You are my favorite light. Even my toothbrush reminds me of you.
You are my favorite dream and you are my reality, because with you I live that dream that I had four lifetimes ago – I dreamt I was at a dark place and scared, but then a flash of light made my heart burst open, and there you flowed from my heart into every part of me. I cannot even explain it.
I could never write a love letter to you – love letters are so restricted. I couldn’t do justice to describing what I have with you, because it is not love. It goes way beyond that, something that mortal men cannot even think of, and even the Gods look at it with awe.
Just – you are my favorite everything.
…
He is my thoughts
He is my dreams
He is my air
He is my hot summer nights
And my lucid winter dreams
He is the hot cup of coffee that I crave every morning
He is the blue blood in my veins
He is the goose bumps when I listen to a great song
He is what dilutes my mind when I’ve had too much rum
He is my vacuum
He is my sadness
He is my vision for madness
He is my cigarette smoke
He is my every little silly thought
He is,
He is my sky
My constellation
My wired magic moment
He is my skin
He is my bones
He is my words
He is my mind
My soul
He is me
And I am him