nobody. ever. finds.

the flesh covers the bone
and they put a mind
in there and
sometimes a soul,
and the women break
vases against the walls
and them men drink too
much
and nobody finds the
one
but they keep
looking
crawling in and out
of beds.
flesh covers
the bone and the
flesh searches
for more than
flesh.

there's no chance
at all:
we are all trapped
by a singular
fate.

nobody ever finds
the one.

the city dumps fill
the junkyards fill
the madhouses fill
the hospitals fill
the graveyards fill

nothing else
fills

pouvoir être faibles ensemble

Le souvenir du bonheur n'est plus du bonheur ; le souvenir de la douleur est de la douleur encore. ~ George Gordon Byron
 

eyes wide shut

О, даaaaaaa!

Put some pickles on

Les livres sont, comme les virus, des entités intermédiaires entre l’objet et l’être vivant.

du lourd

Deuil, mélancolie et chat(s)