like a rook

music as metaphor / style whore / delicate misuse misspelling and poorly punctuated words galore/ i try to be funny so as not to bore /mais, hot damn is it a chore!
u my love have found a place for everything in our home, the boars head brush has its own cup, our candelabras match, our tomato-shaped pin cushions live in our fruit bowls, natch, but u havent left me a cubby or  corner for the cottonball soft anvil of confusion whose waters broke giving soon birth to what i thought was just a random protrusionthe living embodiment of my illusion

u my love have found a place for everything in our home, the boars head brush has its own cup, our candelabras match, our tomato-shaped pin cushions live in our fruit bowls, natch, but u havent left me a cubby or  corner for the cottonball soft anvil of confusion whose waters broke giving soon birth to what i thought was just a random protrusion

the living embodiment of my illusion
(i will carry u thru the hurricane waters & i’ll remember u in the blue skies)

(i will carry u thru the hurricane waters & i’ll remember u in the blue skies)

Still fly

Still fly

I chose to curl into the arms of a C, to swing it into the sky feet first and smiling with wind in its teeth, as if it were the two hands of the father who placed it in between the B and D, pushing the boundaries of infinity into obscurity, while grinning feverishly

I chose to curl into the arms of a C, to swing it into the sky feet first and smiling with wind in its teeth, as if it were the two hands of the father who placed it in between the B and D, pushing the boundaries of infinity into obscurity, while grinning feverishly

He said:  u know they placed between our sea a small country who’s caverns n cravasses we must cross, whose languages we must merge into a bridge of synonyms, words that speak the language of words whose very words have yet to assign a spokesperson to speak for them, stuck in the limbo of understanding, in fact, underneath the word understanding, bent over, beneath, and underneath and below every syllable silent n hushed its fist in an effort to be heard, furiously banging

He said:  u know they placed between our sea a small country who’s caverns n cravasses we must cross, whose languages we must merge into a bridge of synonyms, words that speak the language of words whose very words have yet to assign a spokesperson to speak for them, stuck in the limbo of understanding, in fact, underneath the word understanding, bent over, beneath, and underneath and below every syllable silent n hushed its fist in an effort to be heard, furiously banging

U have me searching for doors in my mind

U have me searching for doors in my mind

U see, I love myself, so I don’t really care if u love me

U see, I love myself, so I don’t really care if u love me

And later, when the pitch is perfectly deep n dark and what only surrounds us is song and spark, we will break mirrors

And later, when the pitch is perfectly deep n dark and what only surrounds us is song and spark, we will break mirrors