oblique songs

soul is silent
running around
she’s a terrible singer
floating about in voices
of other people’s songs

imagining how she’d have imagined the dance steps
oblique slants
gushing in and whizzing past the moments that never build
built to just ecstatically fall

clairvyont little wasps
bite you timidly
still waiting around
when the restless leg movers have moved on and ahead and I’m still childishly dreaming of Utopian
times that don’t exist
while sitting on a bench outside a building I’ve never stepped foot into.
There’s a clock inside the living room, one I can’t see and only hear.
A living room that may not have been lived into
broken into the shoe that I called adulthood
mild little heart attacks each time I feel the hours race forward
Pick my fingers up and move the tick tocks on the clock

getting late again, as usual
so many imaginary fuzzy creatures rushing through and then the adrenaline changes into an anxious bee flocks into the corners of your eyes and the
stomach moves into a palpitating calm
wasted time counted as she moves

three more days if you count the imagined day wasted thinking of wasted days

two more days would just make the weekend
her legs
her feet still dirty from all the walking.
counting time as she moves


The clock is just another friend, inside shrill psyches of so many pre-ordered minds
So much digressing from a million points of digression

seems like the song has changed
goodbye for now

we’ll come back when she can see the song and not just hear the words

~ written under the influence of




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