spitting
the passing of time confuses me, and the clicks that the camera makes when you are spitting images...out like...oh.
and this is the connection between then and now, and how i should not even be thinking about then...when the click ticks, i am recorded. this moment. and that is whats here. in my hand, or so it seems. im stealing things from myself, small memories and mementos, meant for other kinds...meant for other years. those when the hair looked softer against my face.
i used to think images,
projected farther and with more depth,
focus on one thing,
images of color, black and white.
or the grey between,
it used to be so, that my face
could depict this, with such slippery
tendencies,
and my hands, they started shaking.
and i couldnt think these images any longer,
i could only think long winded and shaking thoughts, ones where you are there and then you arent
and this all blurs in one, and makes one mixture, you and me, . ohh, well. we are one? honest to goodness whatever that means, makes images blur and fade. and we are one.
thats right./
you. i like it and i think its better. i dont know better than what, but it is. it makes music on the roof, for times when id like to hear....roof sounds.
and i am so comfort. thats all. its that and this and you and things. and jumbled, but humbled, if rhymes could be satisfactory, you know.
young, but right. young, but right. we are innocence, and we arent that insulated.
the facts have never interested me much, and so these words are vague. but i like them that way. and that is how they will stay, its better taking a telescope and deciphering things anyway. the images have faded. but i have not.
and this is the connection between then and now, and how i should not even be thinking about then...when the click ticks, i am recorded. this moment. and that is whats here. in my hand, or so it seems. im stealing things from myself, small memories and mementos, meant for other kinds...meant for other years. those when the hair looked softer against my face.
i used to think images,
projected farther and with more depth,
focus on one thing,
images of color, black and white.
or the grey between,
it used to be so, that my face
could depict this, with such slippery
tendencies,
and my hands, they started shaking.
and i couldnt think these images any longer,
i could only think long winded and shaking thoughts, ones where you are there and then you arent
and this all blurs in one, and makes one mixture, you and me, . ohh, well. we are one? honest to goodness whatever that means, makes images blur and fade. and we are one.
thats right./
you. i like it and i think its better. i dont know better than what, but it is. it makes music on the roof, for times when id like to hear....roof sounds.
and i am so comfort. thats all. its that and this and you and things. and jumbled, but humbled, if rhymes could be satisfactory, you know.
young, but right. young, but right. we are innocence, and we arent that insulated.
the facts have never interested me much, and so these words are vague. but i like them that way. and that is how they will stay, its better taking a telescope and deciphering things anyway. the images have faded. but i have not.