I wrote these words years ago. September 2, 2011 exactly. From the sloughs of sayings and passages, things I no longer agree with – these words rang true.

“When there is no other course, we have to learn to walk the one before us anyway. When we can’t bear the one we’ve found ourselves on, we have to find a place where we can breathe the air again. When we’ve become something we can’t imagine being, we have to find some way back to where we used to be.”

What have I become that I can no longer love? And what, in the storm I passed through in my coming here, did I lose?

When, where, how can I come back to it without running from the things I still need? How do I coallate a new me?

保護者です。 (Protector)

I’m trying to get you out of my head, but you keep ending up in my space. I keep thinking –

零、you know where that road goes. Don’t walk that way. You’ll just get splinters in your hands and face.


I go through the barrier of my door into my room, sit on my bed, strum guitar and think…

I must be right.

部屋出て、娘茶をつかって、ごばんを食べて、勉強して、何かをする。。。(And then I leave my room to make tea, to make food, to study, to do a thing…)

And there you are.

I promise I’m not trying. These meetings are complete chance and accident. And I am not looking at you because if I do, I think I’ll lose it. But you talk to me and I can’t reason why.

I just keep trying to believe that I know what I’m doing. I keep trying to pretend that it has no chemical effect on me. I keep acting like it’s nothing.

But, Kaiozku, I feel the wheel is upside down.
What do I do?

今朝、終わる (This morning, finished)

Thoughts continuously rise and pop, rise and pop. Bubbles in efforvescent water. Nothing comes of one, two, three of them. Only together, they create a mass effect on the tongue. Not a taste, but a sensation. A tingling on lips, fizzing against teeth.

You swallow and the feeling slides singing down your throat. In your stomach, the bubbles turn to gas, filling your belly up. Later all that excess air has to be burped back up. A second round, less pleasant than the first.

But at the vending machine, you still choose the fizzy drink over still. You ask yourself why each time. Only to have what is comfortable and safe? Because without those brief sensations, your days lack something? Because you, by now, are used to such low grade suffering? Because you can’t bring yourself to touch that deep anywhere else?

Funny how we learn to love the wrinkles around our eyes that years of frowning made permanent in us. Funny how difficult a new pattern is to set. Funny how we just go round and round.

Isn’t it?

Well, I’m laughing at any rate.