this is about you
bird caged
indulging beliefs, believing indulgences
at some point
there is no difference
do you remember the wintery days?
with nothing else to do
a long time ago
when why was everything
we don't have much of a winter here
every season has it's own feelings
with vacation variations
vacation has a melody beyond itself
at least you cried
Thursday
I know you did
Wednesday, Friday, I did too
my family heirlooms are in the ceiling
my possible escape
somewhere
I could sell them
but they are strange
it's more about serenity
loneliness isn't loneliness
if you embrace it (I think, I'm not sure)
but this is your challenge, not mine
etcetera
I've surrendered
all of these things:
failures, realization
country city kiss lipstick
songs, companions
anguish for vagueness for silence
for what?
I don't remember
do I project a greedy, bloated costume
screaming brilliant noises
of gifts unseen?
I should mention jazz
at this point
not the genre
the strange, secret spasm
is that right? is that what it was? it's always been there
what is it today though?
everything can't be a costume
(time) is a pretzel, it works that way
there are burning weaknesses
there are complacent strengths
I rival a machine
but one of the earlier ones
this is about digestion
desires
observations
and the combination of quality and quantity of moments
shit! if I had known.
