The run

I search for peace in silence.

In abandoned rooms,

in deficiency of people.

I wish to sink into emptiness.

Nothingness should feel calm,

quiet.

But it is a universe full of incessant echoes instead,

of unspoken thoughts,

grief,

and desires.

And when silence starts biting at the edge of my

sanity, I run off to the crowd of reassuring faces

and unplaced names.

Fall apart in the arms of men

I love

but do not recognize.

Coop myself in familiarity,

in vile words pouring off soft lips

that glisten from pauseless sips of venomous wine;

deception is more welcome than

desolation.

It is not sadness that I seek escape from,

it is the lack of happiness.

I do not know if I am running towards

something or away from it,

all I recognize is the desperation to run.