sometimesi used to think this was the easy part:sometimes by a-secret-key
having something, keeping it. turns out
i'm no good with keeping--
just taking, just moving on. it's not all
bad, though, and
in the end i guess i like that so much of this
is down to me. effects
don't always have causes. sometimes
we just get tired-- tea stained
lantern sunlight. do you ever get
home is tiny in the distance. its lights?
i can barely see them--
corner of the eye,
they burst with tiny needles.
a nice thought, i guess, but maybe that's just me-- sometimes i wish
all light was firelight. it's silly, yeah,
but i'm young enough to still get why it's good
to be tangible.
sometimes my head is cotton-stuffed
and somewhere far away from caring. but then
sometimes it's just my head. i'm beginning
to get used to that--
sometimes i even fall asleep.
ChimesA bird,Chimes by a-secret-key
and the edge of winter. There are no signs.
I'm tired of this, the searing and the splitting,
metal on metal. I'm tired of myths. Won't you just be beside me,
be still? Let me picture you, just for a moment. Divine
concentration, that's all you take. Don't ask.
Living never felt natural.
But here we are, trying-
All for this one second,
this one flash of perfection. It's tricky
to be a person. I can never get the balance right,
and the seasons are a quilt,
heavy like a sand, damp
faces. Where is your voice, is it
beneath the soft song of the quiet? Your words,
did I make them?
untitled1.untitled by a-secret-key
and goodbye: i never thought, i never,
it was a performance. i watched myself and the world
sped up, and i stroked
schrodinger's cat. it's funny now, because
nobody knows when- not really. we never will.
i ought to,
i should. and so
i did, and with steady hands too. that's faith.
i'll remember everything in too much detail- but not
my own words. they fade like thoughts do.
i knew this would happen, and i considered the moment because it finally
Full hands, not steady,
Full house? As if the presence swoll when it left.
We all listen
to the same words
and again, and
again- maybe we'll hear something
no sleep, we wake. things to do.
i make food? that sits on trays,
we put on a real spread-
very carefully, i tell you and this
is family. sugar? i say, you must eat something, i say,
have a seat.
i have fast hands, too afraid to be slow.
i navigate hellos,
it's all hellos today- we forget about goodbye, for a moment, because
HeatherThe world was changingHeather by a-secret-key
except for me. You tore through it,
on a map. The paper moor, the
trees- still stuck in shock
and the heather, purple like a bruise
or the lips
of a greedy child-
and stained red. Feasting
but somehow still
all that is left: the ringing in
my ears, that grey sheeted sky lifted miraculous
by your flock: their flashing brights
suddenly hid from view: not changing
themselves but rather changing
SandstormThe path which I knewSandstorm by JohnAndrewE
I would/could never waver from,
Has become hidden;
Covered in the dust and sand.
The dust and sand which I
Misconstrue as such...
Instead being the shattered fragments of another path.
Countless other paths and worlds and lives and people
As I pass the whirls of leaves and people
Who are lost, like myself, yet not so. Not like myself.
Instead, merely Lost.
As we all are.
Yet in this united sense of
we find ourselves.
We are most certainly Lost.
Ergo, there you go,
We have found where we are.
Nowhere is now here.
The broken pathways,
Abandoned or lost or destroyed by their
Users now scattered in the wind which speaks.
Speaks of tales from
Here to nowhere.
The Armies of One are drifting.
I hear the wind, but I cannot see.
WE ARE THE UNCATEGORISABLE, WE ENJOY OUR CATEGORY.
LABEL US THE LABELESS
AS WE JOIN THE GROUP OF THE SOLITARY.