More and more lately I find myself doing this compulsive mercury routine where i sit there and anguishsquish some sorta sincerity out in overwrought blot flourish and flamenco bends, and then sit there bewildered two nights later in a different mentality, all scholarly and commenting on architecture, annoyed at earnesty entreaty. annoyed at my artifice, twist wordplays days and days
I write songs and look back at them in disgust, annoyed that there can be cloying insistence on something bigger. What is this hipster fascism, this earwig hemingway shtick, as if i believed or subscribed a minute to the possibility, much less necessity, of clear concise prose describing simple and clear scenarios, easy dialog flowing consistently and clearly between distinct, consistent beings.
I don’t like looking at these heartfelt screeds of mine and seeing I can’t stop my head from swiveling, the neck screws as loose as my rearview mirror, i keep on looking at the sunlight reflecting on the road, the sky, the back seat as i rocket down the road.
my girl is still a rabbit bolting into all the walls of a cage i’d never give her, nightmares of carrots and brushes hedging her against domesticity. shes watching everybody she passes, dreaming of them adoring her, everyone and nobody. closing the windows and tossing them open to the windborne debris of sky and sea entropy and oftentimes me. she knows what dreaming is, she has to feel the capability of infinity and freedom, do i want to take that?! shes screaming in smiling silence.
i’m looking at tree branches streaming over the moon like sloppy shoelaces, trees leaping from rock faces. im wondering if these things mean anything. concentrate man, concentrate. for once all the ghosts of my life fell away the other night over a barrage of kisses answering once and for all the question of whether i could open to you. some 900 very strange days days separate us lately, im left wondering how important that is, if it is. if we’ll ever let it go. we’re talking about shores and sirens, stay in my arms, see what the beaches see, the fences falling away as sunlight streams through, everything is illusions until prickling dawnwarmth wakes us wideeyed into air arrows animals eternity or now, tides hiding in sound and shush