L'impossibilité d'une île

Drowning slowly, almost languidly, in a dark green ocean,
surrounded by other swimmers with more skills and stronger
None of them can tell, none of them care
And I am one of them as well as alone and sinking
out of breath and wit
endlessly confused,
incurably disappointed in a world
that is 71% water.

Nihil

I've got a skull full of what-fors and their echoes
Although the space in there feels gigantic
The bones marking it off are like an extra-thick wall, a blockhouse, a bottomless pit
Screams go unheard in here
Craving hands fail to be ghostly enough to reach through the granit
Inner suffering only resonate with outer suffering and
immediately crawls away from it shrinking on itself like a worm
Wears instead indifference as a sophisticate armor a tool of disconnection
That'll desensitize one from the soft touch of lovers
And in one's hair close to one's ear tender murmurs and pleas

Only to be met with similar frames of mind
Within other skulls soon to be bare

Ode alors

We’re always on the verge of tears and yearning for an excuse to cry, for someone to finally press one of our triggers.

For there is an irreconcilable division inside of us, taking not the shape of a single trait separating our core into two distinct parts, but that of a tiny fissure in each of our particles; oh, none of them was left whole, not a single one, and we are torn apart endlessly.

Sinking deeper and deeper while reaching for the stars. Exploding in every directions and withdrawing into a black hole.We are the sum of our attempts at compromises.

And I am so many little scrambles and sometimes I am no one at all, the sad failure of a self, the resulting emptiness of a continued lack of consistency.

But you, my friend, built from the same hazard, you’re a beautiful soul feeding on wonders. And I’m a mere attempt of an answer to your quest for something that was already within you all along.

You’re a star and I’m a mere satellite and I’m contented orbiting around you – in giving me a sense of top and bottom, of left and right, you gifted me with a purpose.

Should you vanish, my beautiful friend, I would be left shivering in the dark, a wandering pebble, an unsightly little thing, instead of the beautiful Moon you made me.

There's almost always a strange feeling enclosed in my rib cage striving to break free, a something I cannot tell, an explosion endlessly contained that I carry with me forever like a beloved millstone.
I lose myself whenever it goes amiss.
Or whenever I lose myself its pressure behind my curved bones vanishes
and my teeth turn into fangs and my fingernails into the claws of a cornered animal.

Instructions for a romantic relationship

If you wish to lean on me, lean lightly, for I'm still a bit unsteady on my feet. If you want me to embrace you and soothe your fears, be prepared still to be on your own, for my weird little soul is but a frail protection against your monsters. Accept my love very carefully and give me your heart little by little to lessen risks of transplant rejection.
Passion is for the strong; as for ourselves, let's commit warily to each other and love in hushed whispers.