this morning i woke up at the sound of the alarm,
which usually doesn’t happen
it’s not as bad as it once was,
but somehow still,
feeling
my heart palpitating and feeling the desperate heaviness of life,
somehow confusing it with the lightness of death.

i touch my loneliness with my fingers
and stroke it softly
i make love to my loneliness, because there is nothing left,

and no, good intentions are not what matters in the end.

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