dear x,
i swear that this is the last time, for silhouette figures to dance over my mind. that is, until the next night time, when transparent poses get heavy in limelight again. they get heavy in limelight again.
and my mind is a glass house that smolders, as I'm casting these stones while the neighbors grow roses outside. and outside is a beautiful sunshine that reflects through the glass to make lasers of insight again. yeah I wake to its rays once again.
and they say every man is an island, so I'm lighting off flares just to shatter the silence I feel. as I sit on these armchair convictions, that get tossed to the curb in exchange for these fictions I crave. in exchange for these fictions I crave.
and this narrative unfolds in flashes that light up the landscape like lightning in texas. and they illuminate scars without warning, that float from my mind to my pen in the morning. and then, then the cycle starts over again.
yours,
x
i have to assume the wink at the end of china's comment is a subtle acknowledgment that there is at least a competition for the title of "best one man band."
