there is no 'self' to be, there is only adaptation to the constan revolution of the earth.

I love many
who have stopped
loving me.
this summer I will go deeper
and that
is a whole new kind of terror.
I will be alone most of the time
and heat will increase as global
universal warming
piles up as the years
 of my life
shed one after the other
this summer
will be the hottest
most solitary
summer I have ever spent and it will
be so different I am terrified of how it will be
some part of me is camouflaging and adapting
to the rough corners of expectations
from my friends and
teachers
and parent
mother
silent statue of all things
liberated and warm
mother with her food and her container like being
many have stopped loving me
and I still love them and this sense
this bit
of heavy
heavy
tragidy I am not sure how
has begun
how to end
still is
still
becomes
except now I have more flowers
and more books and more
theories
different shades of voices and
more poetry
and I finally barg open a window
push forth my head
there is more wind
more windows to open

I still think about
and love people
who have simply stopped
loving me
and I suppose it hurts
but I have a whole summer
a whole hot summer to stay
in bed all
day and fall more
into my bed
and into my self
and I cant see a life beyond this
and that is very dangerous I know
but
at least
I am dreaming again.