The tip of my tongue ---however you spell it - is on the tip of my tongue. Tasting the electric sparks of your... your words. My words with yours oh how the fuck they just morph into ONE. We are ONE. You and I. No resolution. Every resolve. A resolution. Hanging onto this wild vocabulary that sees no place home away from the mermaids nest - no place to come home to because I will not rescue you and you will be still with wings that never really tasted fire, refuge. I have my solitude and my voice which stretches out for miles that lands you, oh my solitude. I wish for this great big warm hot war to be gone and I wish for this bottle of red to keep strong. To wish is nothing though...we must dream it up. Live it up. There is no drinking, no wishing no time for thinking but there is. There is the leg here of thinking and of existing - so do you exist and think with me? If so then carry me home. Where in the god fuck of it all have we landed? When have I ever asked a brother or sister to carry me? Where in the god fuck of this all is it? What is it? Does it end? Where are we
now?I haven't.
I thought I saw you laying next to me the other day naked, pure and so soft gold in your laces...obstructed....and now that you are clothed with your own words, "what have you become?" So different from me. Become. The fools tarot to you. And so what have you not become? So different from me. Become. You never understood this breeze or did you? Your mask begs me to enter and I hear the wild drifting autumn winds arrive..I hear the wild autumn winds arrive because I too am a part of that arrival. I am part of this arrival...I am a a part of the end of the summer breeze. Lace me up, deconstruct. This bird song has me on my knees. We must search for truth, we must..we must still listen straight into the trees! DOG please. GOD please!
