lemmings cascade over rock faces into a river made of Tarot cards.

prismatic bubbles formed by the lips of pink & blue adorned enfants.

ominous static thru dial turn, a guitar riff dissipates, reverb & silence.

will you listen to my heart, if i am truly vulnerable?

i wait at the bottom of a tiled room 6×6, blood clouds glitch in the square above

it is 1899 & i am watching a silver screen simulation on a handheld device

i am still so sad after all this healing.

a black & white movie skips on a 1951 Crosley TV set, Greeks dancing on the isle of Crete.

circus music on a broken victrola, sped to x5.

Phantom of the Opera organ recycled & mashed with 80s disco synth.

will i ever rise from this self-made bed?

it is like mad women decided not to think, after being told it is useless for a woman to think
because even after all these progressive years we are still reduced to filters and cosmetic masks and so why not create music that reflects the white noise, straight-jacket existence we are incessantly reduced to.

destiny is stuck in heaven. the only guy that gets us is supposedly there. at least i still believe
that, because i am mad even to know him.

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