(no subject)
so hey i heard you dream of palm trees and streets of gold, i heard you wished to make buildings out of asteroids, cities out of seas. we sat through hurricane's and stories of kitchen talks. you wash yourself with stars and heads burst under blankets. everything will lead you to this place you'll never find. the credits roll backwards more times then is to count on one hand. men in suits with rabbit ears, girls with paper hats. sleeping in your mothers stew, resting on her knife. the story seems to be about a woman, one who's name i'll never read. it's too soft to hear you say it, read it. focus in on sticks, stones, and bathtubs, sponges and trash bags. when the words dissolve to nothing, right before the white, there it is. a bedroom and a side table, drawn with white sketched over black. the lines are used sparingly and it turns to sideways numbers on a screen. you wonder what it looks like from behind, you wonder what it looks like through glass. there's glass between us, take off your glasses. there's glass between us, take away your windows. we're behind, we're behind we see the letters backwards and see the people as they see themselves, a reflection of a body stretching down a cloth.