& eat th bear of nothing but death to look forward to...
some days, some nights i slink back, shrink down- retreat & backslide
into barely conscious kiddie fear
waking up only as i walk into th cold gust of it-
th fear, th acceptance, th cramped grid of city buildings tottering
coffee chatter on th radio competing w/ live humans impatient for their
another day, another neofolkie songstress
hooking into my ghostly desires
my bones nothing but brittle, hollow flutes fail to keep my skin in place
attached- i may believe i am free again
after i finish my hour on this ill-defined job of reaching & reaching out
receding mirrors of subjectivity never quite flesh out into being...
another quirk, another recognisable illusion crumbling for th sake of
authentic cutural dreams reborn...
& you think/that love is only/for th lucky or th strong...