how to find life within the death of a pause.

Approach life as an experiment.

My habit is to feel everything. This is all just glass and it has been scored and electrocuted into a movie soundtrack. This film is not yet rated, yet it is already banned in more countries than I can pronounce. I am just looking to gallop inside a human who knows how to loiter away the grime of non-recycled memories. We sat on a bench where I wrote my first song and you shared your anise and anger. A photograph of my mother twirls above my bed from that time she channeled Virginia Woolf without realizing. I study her black-and-white gaze as a reminder that there is always something to scrape at from the outside. What I wanted was to touch your hand from palms toward psalms. There is a piano wearing the threads of composed sorrow. Maybe we can dance into the moon, dressed in keys and strings. I will never be easy. You will never be east. It may be difficult to find peace within the nudity of your gender. But this music. This music has limbs that can hold you in the evening. I will be found upon morning, wrapped in alphabetical orchestras and the instrumentation of salt.