You turn on a spindle. You are so much looser now but you're not
explaining how you gained
such new repose. I touch the clasp of your locket, with its

picture held, some secret you wouldn't
tell but let it choke your neck. So we imagine a darkness where
all shapes divide, solids

changing into light, with a burst of heat so bright. Well fine,
don't you do what I want you to.
Don't degrade yourself the way I do because you don't depend on

all the %#@! that I use to make
my moods improve. Near a sea of pianos, there were waves of
chords that crashed against the

shore in one huge and pointless roar. And there were girls
bringing water, like a dream they
came to cure the fever of my brain, and soothe my burning

throat. And they made me a
necklace, hanging beads of sweat on a string of my regrets, and
placed it round my neck and

they were singing, Don't you do what you've wanted to. Yeah,
don't destroy yourself like those
cowards do and maybe the sun keeps coming up because it has

gotten used to you and your
constant need for proo