Ossídio Gaspar

I have to sleep at night

I feel like being sad and thinking of only you. I think that I feel this way because, only a few moments ago, I was thinking of you and feeling sad.

 

I wake up in the morning and go to sleep at night

I disappear in the ideals that mean more to me than I do

I do and I do and I am tired and

I hope that someone who can make me better notices.

 

I feel everything I feel always for the first time

Everything is absolutely unique in the boredom of interminable renewal

Because an increase or a difference happens onto something that was not itself

It happens onto something before that was not it, and it increases what it was by being onto it now

 

I say what I feel because the difference pronounces everything anyway

I have to be sad to write this, I have to not feel like doing anything else

I have to have the person I want to notice not notice, be entirely ignorant of this

By myself, the time, to feel, to feel it again, and remember the difference

As if this were the culmination, as if this was to be all that that feeling was

Perfectly remembered in this lack of a developing future

 

I am stuck in the time that reminds me of being alive

The actual difference of what I want is subtracted from what should show me that being

 

How am I?

I am fine again,

Like yesterday

I am who I am again

I am yesterday, as I will be tomorrow, as I was going to be today before today

 

I am not changing and everything else is changing so that I do not change

Every new feeling more than the last, or different from the last, but enough of a change not to let me change

I am not decided by something that actually happens

Something that could happen

 

But what then if I could actually identify with something I had done because I and it had been for the moment, to make the moment, a moment as large as my name,

And not just my name once again repeated in yet another feeling that erases the effect of my name

That I may have landed, arrived in the dark

Not slept for a night and found the itinerary of the unembarrassed movement of everything anyway

That I could have trapped a segment for my own becoming and held it for a moment

And gave you my name

To notice

Despite everything that might be said

Despite everything I might feel

Despite everything I had felt

Despite the non-sleep

And the arbitrary difference between this feeling for now and whatever memory I had to have of feeling before

Despite not feeling like it,

 

I could still try to say it, to become it without trying to forgive myself for not being able to change

For not being able to be it, but saddened always already just by the thought of it

Because it had been more, always more than what I could think of it

Because it was with you and the person I imagined to be with you as I had imagined a whole world out of the undefinable logic of such an example of things

You and you again

As I could not even think of me.

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