HOME | DD

Description
Walk me in through the soggy streets, the windy winding lines. Away from our temporary home to find a temporary solution to everybody's problem. The things that part us, unspoken truths that leave us on opposite ends of the head: opposite ends the spectrum, the border.

Light up a cigarette. There is so much mystery in your meaning. So many gaps in my perception which you let my eyes gloss over, with unintentional coyness.

My mind is an imposition. It races faster and further than my feet will carry me. Catching my breath against a wall, fresh from the kill, the most sincere sear I will feel. Tonight, at least.

I speak without thought of pardon. "Kissing is obvious." I speak with a deadness that I mean, god help me, from every dose of my existence. "Everybody seems to believe that it has any significance, any connection." Kiss me, feel nothing. I know you know what I mean. "Every one is a little lie about love."

Nakedness is the point here. You take a shot, bare your soul. I take a shot, bare my shoulder. At which point will I fuck this up by feeling something other than serene easiness? You have your cards on the table, I don't even know what I'm holding. I wonder if I'm capable of winning.

"Do something. Not obvious."

"You're hard to read." I'm trying to determine my motives as much as you are. But there is too much honest reflection through strangers, too little bias glaring back. It causes me to hesitate. To insult your hesitation.

"I've made myself as clear as I can, now my actions are up to your interpretations."

---

The con man on the street does not want a cigarette. He wants coin, or he wants a show. He spouts poetry and tells us to look into each other's eyes, to say if this is love eternal. I laugh. "Probably not."

He isn't phased. He tells us to kiss and to believe in love, his eyes are green with anticipation. You laugh. Hand him a cigarette. Don't even light it, just run away.

"Motherfucker didn't write that poem, that's Lord Byron through and through."

My hearts finds a pulse for this city.

---

Sing to me, sing! That is all I will ask of you. Like wind pulls at trees, teasing it to give and shutter, pushing sound against window glass, so open me up. Let me exhale. Feed and disarm me, word after word, until the world is in me again. I need medicine, some sense to my sickness. You balm over the most unlikely places.

Speak to me. My pores gulp in the lamp light air, your skin permeates through into me. Feels the buzz of contact, or the lack of context. Your ignorance is your wisdom. That gives you unique grace.

---

The wind on the wet streets will not wind down. It rages my quiet inspiration, my depleted energy and abrupt victory. Passion that I will one day express. It will come to me when I know what to ask for.

I know that I am on the verge of a question. Hear you light up a cigarette, ashes fly on the moment, then the rain forces an adherence to gravity. But that millisecond in the air is enough.

Because allowing myself to fall is the only thing that will save me.

And I'm ready for the plunge.

Description
Walk me in through the soggy streets, the windy winding lines. Away from our temporary home to find a temporary solution to everybody's problem. The things that part us, unspoken truths that leave us on opposite ends of the head: opposite ends the spectrum, the border.

Light up a cigarette. There is so much mystery in your meaning. So many gaps in my perception which you let my eyes gloss over, with unintentional coyness.

My mind is an imposition. It races faster and further than my feet will carry me. Catching my breath against a wall, fresh from the kill, the most sincere sear I will feel. Tonight, at least.

I speak without thought of pardon. "Kissing is obvious." I speak with a deadness that I mean, god help me, from every dose of my existence. "Everybody seems to believe that it has any significance, any connection." Kiss me, feel nothing. I know you know what I mean. "Every one is a little lie about love."

Nakedness is the point here. You take a shot, bare your soul. I take a shot, bare my shoulder. At which point will I fuck this up by feeling something other than serene easiness? You have your cards on the table, I don't even know what I'm holding. I wonder if I'm capable of winning.

"Do something. Not obvious."

"You're hard to read." I'm trying to determine my motives as much as you are. But there is too much honest reflection through strangers, too little bias glaring back. It causes me to hesitate. To insult your hesitation.

"I've made myself as clear as I can, now my actions are up to your interpretations."

---

The con man on the street does not want a cigarette. He wants coin, or he wants a show. He spouts poetry and tells us to look into each other's eyes, to say if this is love eternal. I laugh. "Probably not."

He isn't phased. He tells us to kiss and to believe in love, his eyes are green with anticipation. You laugh. Hand him a cigarette. Don't even light it, just run away.

"Motherfucker didn't write that poem, that's Lord Byron through and through."

My hearts finds a pulse for this city.

---

Sing to me, sing! That is all I will ask of you. Like wind pulls at trees, teasing it to give and shutter, pushing sound against window glass, so open me up. Let me exhale. Feed and disarm me, word after word, until the world is in me again. I need medicine, some sense to my sickness. You balm over the most unlikely places.

Speak to me. My pores gulp in the lamp light air, your skin permeates through into me. Feels the buzz of contact, or the lack of context. Your ignorance is your wisdom. That gives you unique grace.

---

The wind on the wet streets will not wind down. It rages my quiet inspiration, my depleted energy and abrupt victory. Passion that I will one day express. It will come to me when I know what to ask for.

I know that I am on the verge of a question. Hear you light up a cigarette, ashes fly on the moment, then the rain forces an adherence to gravity. But that millisecond in the air is enough.

Because allowing myself to fall is the only thing that will save me.

And I'm ready for the plunge.