why isn’t every picture that exists of you with someone else
a picture of you with me instead
all of these people are so many people
and none of these people are me
i am sitting in a corner eleven stories high and
i am a very long time away from you
Every Now and Then
“Every now and then I would feel a violent stab of loneliness. The very water I drank, the very air I breathed, would feel like long, sharp needles. The pages of a book in my hands would take on the threatening metallic gleam of razor blades. I could hear the roots of loneliness creeping through me when the world was hushed at four o’clock in the morning.”
—Haruki Murakami, The Wind-up Bird Chronicle
i’m lonely always
constantly filled but empty.
i’m always lonely.