I don't want to know why a plane flies

This is a poem about those winters that bring me this disgusting feeling of not belonging anywhere. It is an angry letter, a melancholic cry for help, a pretentious joke. And it’s none of them. I got tired of trying to present this body of work as an elegy of the mundane. It’s not an elegy. It’s not an essay. It’s just plain and simple poetry and organic growth from my insides. Extensions of what I am. Light that does not need to be explained. Light that you just keep looking at for a few seconds before realising that your mouth is open and that you look stupid just standing there. So yes it’s about her.