20 miles past the pier and the the
record skips, just the way I have
with needles, but it's alright I can
read those grooves myself, it's
like using a scalpel in the dark

All the soldiers have crazy eyes and
the summer leaves it's mark. I
remember it from when I was a
kid and electricity danced over the
streets and you couldn't breathe
for the tar distilling out of the road.

but it's not quite like it was when it was like it had been

Stop Motion

one day one day

my head distracts the rest of me talking in sepia tones
watching ceramic tiles climing over one another and you know stop motion is an illusion and

the distance between us seems infinite

but those are your limitations, not mine

let me pass on by through the ground and beneath where sounds and landmarks are the mosaic breath we find ourselves in

our hearts seem infinite

but that's your limitation, not mine