(2015)
of course it is not about you. you have to know this, like baby birds know worms come with mother’s return,
let’s put all the stupid things in a pile and call them “love” or “worry” or
why is nothing i can do now. where it went. what that echo means, if anything
this being we are, delights in all things, yes but is held breathless
just start over not so much like anything was particularly
like bell bottoms or disco but we need it to think i’m dead
the very idea that i could be
of the things that make me become better only music is unlike surgery
just remember we are so much more than words. shadows are beautiful too but let’s not
i could not conceive of such beauty, it had to hit me like it has. nothing
yeah, the contract the social one, so long ago supposedly agreed to, we were born instead into. what
if you enjoy this pain, all expressions of it, being here compiled, then, yes enjoy them, but
dopplergangers in case you both explode, who knows it could happen, true love too qui… like a limerick, obvious stupid si… like things aren’t. also, angular
i keep smiling forgetting to remember to stop myself.
unspeakable dearth of nutrient the cause of the complaint, lack of the sweet titmilk of human connection,