Could a crack be so silent
Those notes are all I gave to you for company
I watch my shadows chasing shadows
As I finally broke down at the top of an empty hill with no soul
Alone I sit unable to let this song pass
Like a mantra trying to convince yourself that this is the last time and you will quit this
Concern became suffocating and breathing impatient
How did you get here under this starry sky
Knees to the ground
Hands on wood

Delicate thread that holds these cards
Tighter they stand with each knot and pull
So we threw darts at walls to watch them fall
Credulously you thought this game would be your call
Funny how those wicked intentions found its own replay when you shut your eyes wanting more
Intentionally you let it run in loops unable to let it resume
You knew it was not enough for you to be on your way

She said you became a drug at my expense. So I thought the day would end without a chance of that occurrence at the abyss. It was like today, as I waited for the morning storm to come, the leaf twirling its last dance to the ground and all I wanted was a fraction of a second to what that sparrow felt as it halt in mid air. I forced my lungs to take in air and my legs to synchronize, even if it hurts I won't allow myself to remain at this same spot. Like how you beat at your chest to spread the pain and clutch your fist waiting for this episode to subside.

Do we all look at her the same way? With questioning eyes and unkind thoughts? So fragile and thin with only enough skin to cover bones, neither elegant or graceful, just awkward and peculiar. It was the same path to everyone but eminently laborious for her. Bravely she runs on and I solemnly watch her silhouette.

"Every second the city gets smaller and smaller, only you feel it's really you getting smaller and smaller and lonelier and lonelier, rushing away from all those lights and that excitement at about a million miles an hour."

"I can’t live here
In my body, I mean
I can’t live in my body all the time it feels too much
So if I ever feel far away know I am not gone
I am just underneath my grief
Adjusting the dial on my radio face so I can take this life with all of it’s love and all of it’s loss"

Silently you carved a box out of the remaining block of wood you have. Making sure the edges are even out you measured the depth again just to be sure that it will hold all your contents. Yes, a time capsule it will be, to be buried in the earth, away from the sun till it is time to be uncovered. Fondly you stroke each artifacts and said your goodbye. "I can't look at you now. Not now. So I will see you then." Driving this distance it only had been hours, passing this location it only had been weeks. All this too shall pass.

So I picture it to be this way. Subtle and clean as I start with the first brush on this portrait, a bold strong stroke is the first release. These lines are so fine, so much so that I catch my myself holding my breath, gently, not to shake or shiver so they wouldn't know the intensity of all that was held back to produce this piece you tenderly call art.

"Dance my pain away."

I like how the bus water the plants along the sidewalks especially when it rains. Intentionally accidental. I smell the rain and watch as they take cover, yes, today is Wednesday. It has been days and you wonder has anything changed with absence. The graves points in my direction and I feel death for a brief moment. Pranks; surprises and revelations of many layers, a twisted mash up of seriousness and anticipation disguised in fits of laughter. That is what we do best.

Will they call you mechanistic or organismic? Which is it that makes up your structure? What if we are designed like that.