First Love and Its Aftermath

Far away

from what’s normal

far away

from saudade,

far away

from worry.

I have a secret.

I have something

to lure

insanity

a little closer to me.

Have you ever

felt a love’s

aftermath

after meth?

If you rub your eyes

in-between cries,

Things start to seem

so blurry.

You will see phosphenes,

unsettled and afloat.

So pretty.

If you ignore the

dim edges,

semi-consciousness,

dangerous recklessness,

of it;

You will float

on lucid water

where hinges unhinge.

You will see me.

Source

I like the

beauty of irony.

Agony never felt

so,

very

lovely.

But just

how many more

undone pinkies

and unmade beds

must I leave behind

until I fill

this gap

of abandoned

sweet nothing,

until nothing

loses its meaning,

Until nothing becomes

something

else?