Systems of Time

This time it isn't bitterness
that fills my belly;
or longing, hope, and betrayal.
This time it's the feeling of wanting
to fight
harder, longer, with more tamed intensity
and not having anyone to fight with.

Space.

There are three points on a trace of a river. One signals "now" and the other two "then". Then came before now and then also comes after now. Inside the trace are the impossible possibilities of what exits between the points and even within the points. The representation of the points merely masters a close-up view of the internal interrogation of the trace of the river--which must always be in the now, no?

Then I suppose tomorrow I will tell him it is not him and stop blaming it all on space.

Considering Philosophy

We have all heard: "It's not you, really, it's me."

It's not him.
Really.
I just know I must behave to be loved.
And this means questioning not everything but enough to remain questioning that something. I once told him: "Nothing does come from something." He said: "No, it doesn't or else it would be something." I said quickly: "Nothing comes from nothing which is categorically necessary to even be able to say that there is a nothing."

Really. It's not him.

When will I be enough for myself? All others questions in philosophy have been given routes and routes of inquiry. And this one, well it seems to always falter when grabbing someone else--perhaps because we snatch, or pull...away, or play "the what if game" with them instead of ourselves.