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This is a story, some kind of a story |
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this is a story about about a boy and girl, |
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a girl and a boy, a boy. |
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( ), only fighting. |
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that some boy in the dark while he learned to evolve |
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inverted crystal mountain kind of a story. |
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this is a story |
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man, about the serifs and ciphers that the scholars deciphered |
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translations of sanskrit |
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just as my handwritten story. |
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this is a story |
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where the singers begin to appear |
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in the spaces between all the dashes and braces |
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in the mothbitten story - of getting left behind. |
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this is a story |
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some kind of a story. |
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with the pages distressed sins you held to your chest, |
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they were mangled and dog eared, while the rest were just mangy and gory. |
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this is a story about the memory of water |
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translating the sound of the traffic. |
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remember the traffic? |
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it's making you carsick all along southfield freeway. |
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and translating mistakes and the trees were mistaken |
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and the trees for the woods and the sound of the trash |
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for the sound of the blowing leaves along the southfield freeway. |
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my name is a blackbird, this is a two tone. |
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feathers are warm in molasses, |
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twisting the words from the solids to gases. |
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now i don't have worry (of making it) |
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it's so unclear. |
|
am i dead or am i dying |
|
or am i simply tired of crying? |
|
my name is a blackbird, this is a two tone. |
|
feathers are warm in molasses, |
|
twisting the words from the solids to gases. |
|
now i don't have worry (of making it) |
|
it's so unclear. |
|
am i dead or am i dying |
|
or am i simply tired of crying? |
|
my name is a blackbird. |
