a tree as old as me

If I were an astronaut these are some of the things I'd miss upon leaving earth:

People talk a lot about regret but I don't think I have much anymore. After leaving our atmosphere I think all the regret would just evaporate away and a kind form of sadness would remain. I say kind because it's the type you think about but it doesn't play much on your mind anymore.

I would miss the stars as seen from the ground or through my first telescope because I think everything looks more beautiful when seen from afar.

I would miss telling people that I love them. It's kind of sad to think about how much some people can mean to you at that very moment in time and how they don't mean as much now. Things happen in moments and in their own private, personal spheres. Maybe all we're meant to do is genuinely fall deeply in love and then slowly grow out of it before someone else comes along to continue the cycle. But that doesn't mean you haven't loved anyone with everything you have in those brief fleeting moments.

Rain on the window as my mixtape plays. As I scribble away on my notebook and occasionally sip tea from a paper cup because I don't like coffee and because polystyrene is non-biodegradable.

-

There isn't so much to miss as there is to look forward to:

The long silences.

The absence of human touch.

Time to think and reflect and hopefully not regret.

The view would be pretty amazing. I'd play "To Build A Home" while looking down at the planet and perhaps in that very moment I'd feel as if I had fallen in love again.

solaris

palms open

eyes like pools reflecting

thoughts that hinge

on words half formed

half steady

articulate and smooth

waver through a lie

flow, trickle into streams

unmanned trajectories

i am lost

in what i cannot say

hands gather

in a small home

a place in the mind

where everything

can be tucked away

and trembling hands

smoothen out the creases

trace the seams

they gently fold

place in these compartments

the thoughts of you

stored and safe

everything in its right place.

-

One day I'll write a book of longing,

And fill it with love,

And fill it with hate,

But most of all with the things I couldn't fake.

songs of love and hate

cold wood:

for morning comes too soon
the hazy glow of waking light
sparrows sing and jest in open candour
dreams they slip with diminishing splendour

ah soft words that swell and seem similar
a lonely mind that represses the familiar
oh bright morning you dim and dissolve into evening
a dozen more dreams and re-dreams while you were sleeping

against the cold wood i rest my head

half asleep in sweet surrender

from the cold wood i build my bed

small and narrow without room to remember.

-

the boston diaries:

happiness

sadness

happiness

sadness

happiness

sadness

happiness

sadness

happiness

sadness

at the end of the day, the feeling is always replaced.

-

blankets:

Craig and Raina.

"to describe what it feels like to sleep next to someone for the first time."

As they alternate between guilt and passion and love and anger and resentment but perhaps worst of all, regret, Neil Young's Only Love Can Break Your Heart plays softly over the stereo until the characters and their stories fade to black.

-

never let me go:

we'd walk side by side while thoughts converge in spaces left behind. perhaps we'll always feel that we never had enough time.

-

padraic my prince:

split me open at the veneer
take everything you see
i’m letting out the emptiness
so come plant your roots and remain

-

oranges:

And if one day you ever wonder about the heart you had to break
Please don’t lose any sleep teething thoughts in your bed
Oh i love you so how could there be any hate?
All that’s left is sadness and only sadness permeates.

-

for a redeemer, saviour, friend:

lover, may i come over?
this world will never really know, i'll be yours until i'm old.