...talk, talk.
in my mind i can conjure a million images for your eyes only; you'd breathe a full sigh & understand.
i can dream up halfdeveloped clips of sound for you to taste.
i can electrify innumerable morcels of static, mesh them with created colours--- these heartfilled pieces could finally file a description worthy of your time.
but a million words, 7 continents of paper, and a Dead Sea of ink do me no good, allow no justice to diffuse.
i want you to hold your own antivenom. in my hands, it's worthless.
i am scared for you.
i think into the unlived for you.
life is effervescent, blinding, pitted, pointless, ever in motion, ever splitting, ever regenerating.
"too much plot."--an overdeveloped novel that is too difficult to read, too heavy to lift.
i am not a light, i am not a key. i need you to understand what little value i am to you, ultimately.
how i'll probably hurt you more than i'll help you.
but know by no means do i wish to bruise you , but that's what always seems to happen, that's my crooked charm.
all i want
is your happiness.
but by putting so much faith in me, i think you are depriving yourself.
"yes or no?"
yes, ten years time yes. i would hold you high inside a broken-in love.
what of next september? you want to carve my name into your map, "destination:her"
and i am frightened of that. mostly for you.
i can dream up halfdeveloped clips of sound for you to taste.
i can electrify innumerable morcels of static, mesh them with created colours--- these heartfilled pieces could finally file a description worthy of your time.
but a million words, 7 continents of paper, and a Dead Sea of ink do me no good, allow no justice to diffuse.
i want you to hold your own antivenom. in my hands, it's worthless.
i am scared for you.
i think into the unlived for you.
life is effervescent, blinding, pitted, pointless, ever in motion, ever splitting, ever regenerating.
"too much plot."--an overdeveloped novel that is too difficult to read, too heavy to lift.
i am not a light, i am not a key. i need you to understand what little value i am to you, ultimately.
how i'll probably hurt you more than i'll help you.
but know by no means do i wish to bruise you , but that's what always seems to happen, that's my crooked charm.
all i want
is your happiness.
but by putting so much faith in me, i think you are depriving yourself.
"yes or no?"
yes, ten years time yes. i would hold you high inside a broken-in love.
what of next september? you want to carve my name into your map, "destination:her"
and i am frightened of that. mostly for you.