You make me nostalgic for a love that hasn’t even happened yet.
You are here
The Greek word for ‘return’ is nostos. Algos means ‘suffering.’ So nostalgia is the suffering caused by an unappeased yearning to return.
I miss the kiss of treachery
The aching kiss before I feed
The stench of a love for a younger meat
And the sound that it makes when it cuts.
It’s about misunderstandings between people and places, being disconnected and looking for moments of connection. There are so many moments in life when people don’t say what they mean, when they are just missing each other, waiting to run into each other in a hallway.
Night. Never have I experienced such agony. I would like to describe her face, her ways–and I cannot, because my own desire for her blinds me when she is near. I am not used to being with nymphets, damn it. If I close my eyes I see but an immobilized fraction of her, a cinematographic still, a sudden smooth nether loveliness, as with one knee up under her tartan skirt she sits tying her shoe.
Perhaps when we find ourselves wanting everything it is because we are dangerously near wanting nothing.
I am left alone; you in Persia, horizons away. Dearest Creature, my heart currently resembles the ashes of my cigarettes.
May I kiss you then? On this miserable paper? I might as well open the window and kiss the night air.
Where you used to be, there is a hole in the world, which I find myself constantly walking around in the day-time, and falling into at night. I miss you like hell.
I am tired, Beloved, of chafing my heart against
The want of you…