I don't want to be hanging from the crescent again, neither touching the earth nor roaming the stars.
I want you to not take me for granted, to want my happiness, to let me want your happiness.
I am afraid of you this time, afraid I might have opened up too easily, afraid I might have let you tread where you should not tread.
You came with your heavy black boots and the ground shook.
My nails dig into your flesh, red marks spoil your pale arm.
But when I look up, I see no twitching traits, no painful expression.
It is as if didn't exist. Maybe I am a ghost that you can't see?
I look at your arm again. The scarlet marks still exist.
Have your senses numbed in this misanthropic world?
I can't blame you
but why didn't mine do the same?
Did I fall?
Or am I still standing?
I don't know.
I always don't know.
You always don't know.
One time you catapult me up to Orion
Next minute, I smell grass and my head is stuck in a hole
An infinite blueness cradles me, the stars wink at me
Maggots creep about my body lying on the moss
Home is where the heart is.
Mine is where yours is but
where is yours?