Jeezing geeking and geezing myself again. Hating and humming. Worried and wishing. Don’t kiss the glass. I see you run to the DJ booth- I talk of old sadness and the lake where I draw my sadness. Sometimes I feel that the tap is dry.
I live for her, love her, she’s gone. Silence and violence and chapped lips. Whisper rasping words on the wind. Carried haphazardly. Hap for chance. Not happy. Rolling dice on the cliff face. To read you’ve got to drop. And out of it we do. Out place, sphere of being and presence. Our perspective- the future playing back to us what we expect. Selfishness. Women.
AndCuts only me. It’s only me. Ignored bored and sorted. Hardly organised. Old blood misgivings and unforgiving and the stir crazy midday drunkardness of lonely-sum people. Hooks in, beyond language “how nice it all is”…
Yes yes me- Ill, vom. No vim or vigorous. You touch me on the dance floor I’d never touch another person unless asked or told. Told by whom: we are after all impressionable beings. And my conflict lays and lies with me. Treacle into my ears.
Lost love I repeat. I loved you. I love you. I hate you I’ll never forgive. Both told, both felt and both forgiven feelings over time. Wouldn’t it be great to build up these emotions. While we all seem to create networks to fit in, operate and fuck. And that passes the time. Until we die. More and
More. Abhorrence. Uncomfort. No
Love lost. Only questions of truth and love and something to make it all… Make it all bareable.