And would still


mysticism is a nothingness borne to a nothingness gained if that cryptic language is sprung from deceptive conceit. all paths seem forfeit
but who am i to judge distance and foresight and the knowingness of things, played out
whether by my own hands or the fingers another --
their long forms drawn toward the keys --
you give me that piano and i will play it anyway.

you gather words and put them in your storytale long and untamed and give it a name, decorate it with the wonderment of sight and bless its sound with the phonetic genius of obscurity, like all things are, into a garden of reserved notion: if it is heard, then it must be known, and knowingness is, as with all things, the first step to being. you want to be and you want to be

and you want to be heard, you want to be loud: you open your mouth with that notion, and beguile an audience silent in their remission. who wants to hear a poet anyway, who wants to draw the sun out of the sky like poison from a wound -- if the day was oncoming you would execute it with steadfast sleep, normal and unrehearsed; weary eyes paint the darkened sky with charcoal clouds, mother says, chapter three. no house is a home
lest you christen it with your unrelenting pessimism
the walls are sure of it, i'm sure.
self-indulgence isn't a merit-you never built that house from the ground like you wanted walls were never painted sunny, dandelion yellow even if i told you it was a weed you wouldn't believe it, and still don't. when i say i want to move, i mean it's better to keep moving forward than to stay still, even with the hope of proving to yourself and to others that you're that strong, that durable
even the genderless gutless bowels of tupperware melt under the harsh, hot heat.
when you put words together they long to match edges in similarity, forms fitting to the curve of a shoulder.

but your words are insidious i with woeful nails chalk them up to the skyhigh board platted against my window each night i would listen to them diligently if i thought the knowledge was sucked out of the textbooks themselves