Each bow of silver bough
pulling to the water...
Snowflakes are pouring in
and drought is pouring out...
He knew everyone but he sank into oblivion.
He knew everything but still had to die...
Heart is now,
tick tack pulsating...
If I am all the things I love,
Then I am you and none of me...
Every truth
is hidden in the moment of a bird silence...
You are somebody
when you learn...
I think of my hands as a tofu-press,
and dig into your skin a smidge harder...
You opened up a void
and I kept drowning...
Would it be too much,
too soon to live these thoughts...
Anything ephemeral
in its burn...
To the love of "Orson Welles"
Let me die for what is right...