Notes liquify me.
I beg the music
Won't come
Searching.
I pour into
Glossy magazines
And
The Glow
Of flickering
Movie screens
[Like a moth to a flame].
And I always feel
The same,
Because I'm too afraid
To allow my fingers
To trace
The hems
Of change.
Of flickering
Movie screens
[Like a moth to a flame].
And I always feel
The same,
Because I'm too afraid
To allow my fingers
To trace
The hems
Of change.
Music stirs the wound.
I won't stand naked long
Enough to
Admit:
I won't stand naked long
Enough to
Admit:
I am a series of notes,
And treble clefs.
I am cuts,
And cuts,
And treble clefs.
I am cuts,
And cuts,
And rests.