Each time I dry and comb her hair
I cannot but think this is how we started
Me watching you blowing hot air
Over your head or was it in my chest ?
Me watching you being a fool and singing
An imaginary silent tune that still rings in my ears
Each time I comb and dry her hair,
The picture of your lips
Fills my visual field
The sound of your voice
Chime and resonate in me,
I still do not know whether it is a curse or a blessing…
Probably the latter.
I do not remember your smell.
I shall not let life
Become a thing that I endure
Instead of taking part in it.
I shall not let life
Become a thing that I undergo
Instead of taking it in my own hands.
…
Oh, wait ! Doughnut !
Digging through piles of old video games cartridges
Digging through history of electronic devices
I was not only looking for a past
But also for a present,
And possible
outcomes.
I was looking for a model.
I want to be this man who sweats awesomeness,
I want to be this woman soft as a lover
But stronger than an army,
I want to be able to change and become whoever I want.
I want a destiny that I can break
With my own fists
To build a new one.
I want an unsolvable puzzle
That I would solve.
I want an epic medieval adventure
Set in a modern world.
I want to write my history,
No, many histories,
In symbols,
In pictures like
Ancient mosaics of pixels,
In frustrations
and laughs
In silence
and music
In contemplation
and action
In peace and wars
(but mostly peace)
In wisdom and in bizarre
(but mostly bizarre because
Wisdom doesn’t mean anything
Anymore).
I do not want an escape
But a destination
Even if temporary.
I want to be good at something.
No, I want to be a genius at something.
I want a funky-electro festival playing while
I save the world by racing on (eco-friendly) machines
Flying at 1224 +1 kilometers per hour.
I want a concert of a classical orchestra playing while
I try to fix the Andromeda constellation
In the remote confines of the Universe
Without anyone knowing.
A butterfly kiss on the cheek
Because she likes me.
(She is so sweet)
A second kiss on my cheek
Because she wants
To make sure I get the message
And butterflies are sensitive.
(She is beautiful)
Her delicate hands around my face
The softest kiss on my lips
Because my face probably shows
That I am still not getting her message clearly.
(Dumbed. Warmth. I think I am in love)
The green tranquility of a cup of tea,
Resonates with the authentic comfort of the wooden structure.
My place, my time.
The half-open paper screens
Let a small breeze in,
Pushing endless white and grey clouds in
And out.
The house is full of empty,
Filled with serenity and love,
Simplicity.
Remote but not alone.
Empty but not hollow.
Filled with nothing else than
Myself
And my love of the world
My love for my relatives
My love for you.
I feel more complete a full than ever.
The cup empty.
For a brief moment I stay here
At the crossroads of what I may want
And what I am scared to leave.
I let the threads of time pass through me.
Sweet anachronisms.
Or maybe I am the anachronism.
How long does
“too soon” last ?
I regressed
To the point that
I don’t know the words
That could express how I feel.
I feel dumb,
So much that
I don’t even know
My name.
I am a nobody.
I feel detached,
So remote, that it scares me to death.
My body doesn’t anchor me
Here below.
I could try
To overcome all that
But I would be building
New lies to cover up for
That thing
I hate to acknowledge,
I fear to admit has come back.
Depression.
However I won’t lie to myself.
It is just me and my feelings now,
In an honest face-to-face,
A showdown maybe.
