کاش یه چیزی داشتیم به اسم مرخصی روزهای بارونی
که تو روزای بارونی بهت اجازه میدادن بمونی خونه بری زیر پتو

Summer haze
“August of another summer, and once again
I drink the sun
and the lilies are spread across the water”
-Mary Oliver, from Felicity, The pond

I find me, leave me, go towards me, come from me, nothing ever but me, a particle of me, retrieved, lost, gone astray, I’m all these words, all these strangers, this dust of words, with no ground for their settling, no sky for their dispersing, coming together to say, fleeing one another to say, that I am they, all of them, those that merge, those that part, those that never meet, and nothing else, yes, something else, that I’m something quite different, a quite different thing, a wordless thing in an empty place, a hard shut dry cold black place, where nothing stirs, nothing speaks, and that I listen, and that I seek, like a caged beast born of caged beasts born of caged beasts born of caged beasts...

- Samuel Beckett, The Unnamable, 1953

Right before my eyes
I saw the whole world lose control
The whole world lost control
Before my eyes uh-huh
I fell through the floor
I couldn't take it anymore
I can't take this anymore
It breaks my mind uh huh

"I want to hear your laugh just as much as I want to hear your moan"

God, but life is loneliness, despite all the opiates, despite the shrill tinsel gaiety of "parties" with no purpose, despite the false grinning faces we all wear. And when at last you find someone to whom you feel you can pour out your soul, you stop in shock at the words you utter - they are so rusty, so ugly, so meaningless and feeble from being kept in the small cramped dark inside you so long. Yes, there is joy, fulfillment and companionship - but the loneliness of the soul in its appalling self-consciousness is horrible and overpowering.

-Sylvia Plath