camus in the third, garcia’s first

[eccedentesiast]

camus in the third, garcia’s first

I.

The turning of pages
Leaves and words that seem ceaseless
We all write for adoration
And when we find it we know nothing
More than stammering awe
We are finally speechless

II.

Winter is my best friend
I spend most of the year in hibernation
The blood pumps, each breath visible
The chance for someone else to warm me
That is all I know about our existence

III.

I wane in my solitude
Quite an impression, your intent exactly
Clever to the end, you swear you know the dance
My feeling that I have two left feet on this floor
Keeps me from changing the tune, but you know this