I know that starting over is not what life’s about. 

But my thoughts were so loud I couldn’t hear my mouth. 

My thoughts were so loud I couldn’t hear my mouth. 
My thoughts were so loud.

Death will give us back to God

Just like this setting sun is returned to this lonesome ocean

We must blend into the choir

Sing as static with the whole

We must memorize nine numbers and deny we have a soul

And in this endless race for property and privilege to be won

We must run, we must run, we must run

Oh my morning’s coming back

The whole world’s waking up

All the city buses swimming past

I’m happy just because

I found out I am really no one

My most vulnerable spot is at the nape of my soul
and your lips hold the power to paralyze me 
from skin down. 

Your biggest secret was that you loved me.

Mine was that I couldn’t tell whether I wanted to kiss you
or drown you. 

If you write me a sonnet about my elbow on my knee
I would write you a Russian novel about the way you walk 
like you’re holding two bombs in your back pocket. 

I’m sending you a letter.
Included is a ten page play I wrote
between your palm and my fingertip.

My hamartia is that I apologize too often.

Yours is that you never thought to do so
at all. 

de - clavicola