Murmurs

Have you tried listening to change?

Motion murmurs smoothly essentially, but rough on my skin.



Almost entirely, I am not in a mode of judgment

I love you.

I believe this lack of substance that is an object in me

is what gives room for my pleasures;

The cardamom in the summer and Big Mac on the road.

The wolf losing its mind and the monsters running through doors.



And when it all goes away she remains, tick-tock.

I find it extraordinarily beautiful, the conflict of time.

So I listen, I hope you can hear it too.

Sometimes it’s all I can do.



I have this safety net that I spun, I want to give you this present.

Passively let it be carried by the faint current.

Please try to see me through my eyes, for I am so sorry

it is a paradoxical release.



But I look at this great cloud linger behind the buildings,

intermittently sharing the sun with me. Great. Full.

Others passing by and all the mosaic pigeons part like Yam Suph.

How absurd everything is, how exotic it could be.

It is a possibility.



So, love

I can only access my experience of both, and see its reality in you.

I’m regarding it as true, I hope you can hear it too.