confusion

i cannot do this anymore. how could he do this to me? i am so amazed by him, so in awe, what can surprise me more? neither a rainbow at night nor fire burning underwater, it feels like there awaits a miracle in every corner, every nook, whenever i’m with him. if i’d be cruel enough i’d dare to ask the question; how could you do this to me? but having suppressed the distrust of reason, i would repeat every single thing all from the beginning. i literally go insane, i see him everywhere, i dream of him everywhere, it feels like he’s everywhere for me there in the sky and for me he is everywhere here on earth. and all this for what? now please tell me what will even happen to us? day and night i call a futile cry, i curse people, i hate people, i am ashamed of my life itself, because to live for nothing, it's to live without him. i will hate myself forever for letting all this happen. o think i either really do love him or am just persisted, for good, for bad and for God's sake /may, 24/

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he did it to me - how? how could he? how vile, how repulsive it is, to be left here. how could he be my everything - then leave this earth? it didn’t surprise me because i knew it was never meant to. inebriated on miracles, now i vomit them; extremely early, it was too late for us; it all ended the moment we started. this is my end, long foreseen; i chocked on his blood, and died in the very same breath that gave me life. the night fades, the clouds darken, the colors lighten - the fire dims, and i am addicted to unhappiness again. yet what harm does it do to me when i feel that i am still with him - still - and where?... what is is it? this is my cry and plea for life: why cant i live in invention? why was he, my angel, leaving me? is my second death approaching? let me unite with him and never, never ever be separated again. i've felt the truth of dying, what it means to die, to no longer be; i have died - how cruel it is for a rotting soul among the crowd to mimic the living passion. i dont know about the rest of you, but i am torn apart by the hunger of my own desire. the word "nothingness" comes to my mind; mixed with my most sacred aspirations, my love for him. i am nothing - i live for nothing, never will i see him again, even if i do see him. i have not yet risen from the dead, and i never will - may my grave lay somewhere in an disgraced abyss, in the midst of great solitude, and in February, i shall see butterflies in the snow. /jan 25/