Sunday, March 15, 2015


This is so hard. I am trying to trust you.

Or if not you, in something. 

In the meantime I listen to him play guitar,
Big headphones buffering me from everything outside of
This music and this brain that I am living in.

Reality is for me much more difficult than metaphor.
I'm not writing this well, in other words.
At the same time I think it's important not to draw too fine a line between
Metaphors, or reality. 

I want to look at a picture of you and ache like I do when looking at him.
That said I've ached in the past and look where it got me.
Still there's a difference between that and this.
Love is a verb. 

This isn't getting me anywhere.
Wilson pushes off of my chest when I start singing and goes to lie with Mr. Fish on the living room rug.
Wilson needs love, and he doesn't.

Let's put a pin in this. Let's pull out all the stops.
There must be more than polarization.
I mean just looking at that picture of a river and leaves falling made me cry. 
I mean remember the crows flying in.

My favorite birds are mallards,
Followed by sparrows. The first floats and the second is so hungry.

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