sometimes i wonder if the people we love have anything to do with how much we love them or how we feel about them. at times, the lines become so blurred, they tend to really feel like an object of desire. why do we love them, because of how we feel about them, or because how they make us feel, because what side of us they bring out. what are we really in love with, them or us. im not sure momentarily if its them, it seems in this moment that we just really love ourselves, they are the instrument, the carriers, the missing connection to ourselves. we cant really feel ourselves unless we love, cant really feed ourselves that craving, that hunger inside of us, the need, shameless and naked, brown and green.
they form the channels
we are the pit and the crater
never ending, never there
sometimes here, and sometimes there
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