Hey baby, I like your words comin' outta your mouth
I don't know... but here is a poem. It almost says what I want it to, but I can't get it quite right and it doesn't feel finished. But. Anyway.
raisons d'être
we have been reduced to living in the confines of a calendar square, forced to dissect the earth to pin it, still squirming, to a corkboard, to close our eyes and draw lines up & down creating past & future and somewhere you and I make up the present. if it can all boil down to eating/not eating feeling/not feeling then I can live with that (and I've been doing both for you). I can live a life of impossibility. to come to terms with the tragedy of having only one to live. to explain to myself why I am not where you are. why am I not where you are? in another life, there would be no waiting. there would only be one city, one third third floor, only one language so I wouldn't have to learn them all. it would always be sunset and all the colours I feel would be purple and blue. in this life we speak as if it couldn't be. my mouth gets stuck each time I try to say I can/I will/I must. we are too used to the waiting, but can't you see? there can only be: the brown of yr eyes, the pallor of my skin, so alive with believing, that the cameras stopped rolling ages ago.
raisons d'être
we have been reduced to living in the confines of a calendar square, forced to dissect the earth to pin it, still squirming, to a corkboard, to close our eyes and draw lines up & down creating past & future and somewhere you and I make up the present. if it can all boil down to eating/not eating feeling/not feeling then I can live with that (and I've been doing both for you). I can live a life of impossibility. to come to terms with the tragedy of having only one to live. to explain to myself why I am not where you are. why am I not where you are? in another life, there would be no waiting. there would only be one city, one third third floor, only one language so I wouldn't have to learn them all. it would always be sunset and all the colours I feel would be purple and blue. in this life we speak as if it couldn't be. my mouth gets stuck each time I try to say I can/I will/I must. we are too used to the waiting, but can't you see? there can only be: the brown of yr eyes, the pallor of my skin, so alive with believing, that the cameras stopped rolling ages ago.