The chorus sounds in unison, like bridges strung together seamlessly. Static heartbeats counting off: one – two – three – four, then rubato. The opaque walls hold together swaying in the endless stream of sound under a gentle mist, of smoke greying the blue fogged air.
I wish you could hear this voice of words only meant for you, for when I come home to you; when I come back to you. I could speak for days of endless smiles and I could sing you songs of forever, but my guitar won’t speak if my mouth keeps shut, about coming to …
Too far away to reprimand, too close to see the situation at hand. Friends trading secrets of secrets. Hands touching ears whispering down the lane, a blur of a blurb; a Charlie Brown sound being passed around, being handed down. Steps upon steps removed, disapproved. The unavoidable spread of truth or mistruth of what’s new, …
In a vision, the greying winds stuck to the spongy red earth. A carbonless form, a new archetype in terraform dreams and human-less strife. Lackadaisical hands, and meaningless smiles for double breast suits on white pattern tiles.
Enter conduit, the breeze beneath your feet. It is exalted among the nations; the gift of life from up on high. Go and separate wheat from chaff. Carry the seeds to the fertile land, but never, eever stop running your fingers through my hair.
Two mirrors stood face to face, partisans of assimilation virtually to scale on a linear succession of two dimensional consummations; a finite progression of worsts and seconds all framing in the last.
Resolve yourself in fear, overbearing this better judgement; absolving tears in the shadow of forever lonely nights, where you can not win but I am here for you. Will you ever know that? I have arms meant to hold you in.
Uttered words and stuttered phrases, elongated and complex, expect misinterpretation and miscommunication. In that, art is born. You are given life, and even the lost are home in saying that they are found.
These are the words that I try to say, and this is the bridge that I set aflame. I can see you there on the other side, pouring gasoline doused in shame. What are the words that made you feel this way? What are the words that will make you go away? So I can …
Stare up at the sun. Burn holes through those retinas, my friends. They’re corrupt and old.