1. 1 year ago 

   Static

   A length of momentous longing,

   one neither has to lament for or to

   feel you brimming with

   what one interprets as desire.

   -who wants to be alone?

   She understands the plight of man

   for we’ve only stroked her feet with angst.

   But when she’s feeling beautiful,

   time curtsy’s on ball point toes.

   Your fingers are-

       my fingers in your head.

   Embrace her people

   tiny dust fragments sparkling-

   existing in my perception of a dream.

   Language is music with thought as the conductor.

   Your face, my face

   Static.

   Nothing to be considered noise.

   We transcend the capacities of

   human inclination.

   The beat pulverizing monotony-

   sinister as one might like to think,

   but what we are left to consider-

   dirt and rain are

   the womb of mother nature.

   She can see our tiny speck

      a scaled down life.

   Within a moment within a moment

   we fight their existence, but the truth is full

   of holes.

   For only from the depths, we feel the shallows.

   And there could be no morality ignorant of injustice.

   With her blessing, I turn the sun on.

   With her blessing, I’ll use the phone.

   With her blessing, I’ll nourish the dirt.

   And when my rent is due,

   I will happily pay the full amount.

2. Notes

If you have to make a living, it's already made you.

I'm another artist who wants you to read what I write. Basic idea of a blog? I think so.

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