JE VOUS CHERCHE.

how limited this life is/

i trace the winter creeping/

he woke up with his dreams carved in his head/

GETTING CLOSE BY GOING FAR AWAY

 

"I gave her one, they gave him two,

You gave us three or more;

They all returned from him to you,

Though they were mine before."

 

I FEEL 108 105 107 101

I MISSED 111 117 111 116 110 

115 111 SO MUCH

i felt the pain of this void as time passed by

then i got so used to that void

that i didnt know what it felt like anymore

each of my children

For Mister Warhola

To A STRANGER

by: Walt Whitman (1819-1892)

Passing stranger! you do not know how longingly I look upon you,

You must be he I was seeking, or she I was seeking, (it comes to me as of a dream,)

I have somewhere surely lived a life of joy with you,

All is recall'd as we flit by each other, fluid, affectionate, chaste, matured,

You grew up with me, were a boy with me or a girl with me,

I ate with you and slept with you, your body has become not yours only nor left my body mine only,

You give me the pleasure of your eyes, face, flesh, as we pass, you take of my beard, breast, hands, in return,

I am not to speak to you, I am to think of you when I sit alone or wake at night alone,

I am to wait, I do not doubt I am to meet you again,

I am to see to it that I do not lose you.

WHEREVER YOU ARE I HOPE YOU GOT WHAT YOU NEEDED BY LEAVING

We feel driven to fill the silence.

and we fill it with stupid things.

I HOPE YOU FIND PEACE.

I HATE THIS ALL

Do you think of me
as often
as I think
of you?

   

"In the desert
I saw a creature, naked, bestial,
Who, squatting upon the ground,
Held his heart in his hands,
And ate of it.
I said, "Is it good, friend?"
"It is bitter – bitter", he answered,
"But I like it
Because it is bitter,
And because it is my heart."

goodbye to all that

I miss this time of my life so much

Alchimie de la douleur

L'un t'éclaire avec son ardeur,
L'autre en toi met son deuil, Nature!
Ce qui dit à l'un: Sépulture!
Dit à l'autre: Vie et splendeur!

Hermès inconnu qui m'assistes
Et qui toujours m'intimidas,
Tu me rends l'égal de Midas,
Le plus triste des alchimistes;

Par toi je change l'or en fer
Et le paradis en enfer;
Dans le suaire des nuages

Je découvre un cadavre cher,
Et sur les célestes rivages
Je bâtis de grands sarcophages.

— Charles Baudelaire