夜を裂き
朝の気配に
手を伸ばす
tearing the night
reaching toward
the feeling of morning
4d ago
May 30, 2026 at 3:40 PM UTC
深く吸う
何を待つのか
まだ知らず
a full breath
not yet knowing
what I am waiting for
4d ago
May 30, 2026 at 3:31 PM UTC
母と言う
たびに少し
家になる
Mother
each time I say it
the world
becomes more home
4d ago
May 30, 2026 at 3:30 PM UTC
夜明け前
猫の重みに
名は要らず
before dawn
in the cat’s weight
no name for love
4d ago
May 30, 2026 at 3:29 PM UTC
Times like this,
make hell seem like
a pleasant place
to be.
— Joseph Cousineau
Mar 27
Mar 27, 2026 at 5:53 PM UTC
there was a moment
after all those voices
the room did not settle
it shifted
slightly
as if something
had passed through it
and left things
in motion
it held
a quiet gravity
the air
carried the cold
precise scent
the first snowdrop
crushed
just enough
to feel the snap
not meant
to break
only
to touch
phrases that almost
became someone
i stood there
my shadow
stopped waiting
and stayed
nothing ended
the walls
surrendered
their white
light
soft
like morning
that does not ask
somewhere
a line kept forming
and i did not need
to finish it
and i understood
( not fully
but close )
what remains
is what keeps
becoming
for a moment
it felt
enough
Mar 24
Mar 24, 2026 at 7:40 PM UTC
Before Time
light inside me quivers.
It waits for your lips
to become a word,
like when you shiver
and there is no wind.
You are the one after whom
light is no longer light
but a voice.
We are the same glow,
the same flicker,
a place where time
has not yet arrived.
Joy recognized us
by that quiet quiver,
like trees
in the night
learning to sing
as the wind dances.
Between us
time was born
a child
that still does not know
it has begun.
Mar 16
Mar 16, 2026 at 1:54 PM UTC
Long day of being out and about,
There is just one thing I'd like to do
Reach home, far away from the crowd
Where the memories remain, yet I am new.
Ting tong
The doorbell of my house mocks me
A distant parcel of courtesy
The doorway waits for my quiet retreat,
Undo my shoes like muscle memory.
Scent feels new yet bizarrely foreign.
My coat rests itself on the couch.
Passing the plant I'd long forgotten,
Against the plastic drawer it lay slouched.
Lights on, were the only sign of presence
Glass on the table, left alone
The bed frame grins at my worn essence
The radio silent like echoes hum a monotone.
The hands that chased finishing emails,
Forgetting life, traded an array of means.
Ticking time missing details,
Voices changed and faded to steam.
And in these rooms that once felt heard,
Flew the mystic of a crying herd.
Embracing change yet forgetting the familiar,
Till my own impression became unclear.
Mar 16
Mar 16, 2026 at 1:21 PM UTC
境なき
影は壁より
高く立つ
no borders—
the shadow stands
taller than the wall
Feb 28
Feb 28, 2026 at 4:04 PM UTC
去りし後
椅子の温みが
まだ残る
after you leave—
the chair
keeps your warmth
Feb 28
Feb 28, 2026 at 4:04 PM UTC