time to flee

I wanted to be the personification of constancy. Now, I am almost a personification of change. Changes driven by influence, which are short lived, dumb and irritating.

Influence plagues me from all around. It pours me into vessels of strange shapes and finds it amusing.

In this phase of agitated volatility, I desperately search for inspiration, something or someone who can hold me down so that I can stop changing.

For now, I'm grateful to all that inspires, for they remind me who I am every now and then, though not for long.

A word from some m or h shifts me from suicidal thoughts to something less intense.

Surprise showers, wind, the piano, poems, they spend the wasted hours of my life and turn them into something worthy.

I wish that I find something that I can hold on to forever so that I can be rid of this disease and be myself, until then, it is time to flee.

summer showers

It rained. It was like meeting an old friend. I realised that I should start counting the days I inhale the fragrance of wet earth and the wind when it rains, because these are the only days I live.

and...

Because of you, in gardens of blossoming flowers I ache from the
perfumes of spring.
I have forgotten your face, I no longer remember your hands;
how did your lips feel on mine?
Because of you, I love the white statues drowsing in the parks,
the white statues that have neither voice nor sight.
I have forgotten your voice, your happy voice; I have forgotten
your eyes.
Like a flower to its perfume, I am bound to my vague memory of
you. I live with pain that is like a wound; if you touch me, you will
do me irreparable harm.
Your caresses enfold me, like climbing vines on melancholy walls.
I have forgotten your love, yet I seem to glimpse you in every
window.
Because of you, the heady perfumes of summer pain me; because
of you, I again seek out the signs that precipitate desires: shooting
stars, falling objects.

Pablo Neruda