"... all this vagueness and the exact art of sending love across as small space."
Writing the truth about who and what it is you really want in life is a dangerous game.
Revealing true thoughts to the masses can get you lynched in a Woodstock minute.
And I hate that with the passion of fire. But the burgeoning art scene is much much cooler than I ever dared hope.
Too bad I've been busy giving up on myself.
I could use a little ice to cool my brain.
I think I've gone insane.
A time or two or three...
The full moon rests in my belly cold like stone. Ice dances on the window pane looking like a dream.
I jump off the merry-go-round just as it swings round and round under the white birch tree.
Branches sway. Shadows play.
We all fall down.
We all fall.
It is true.