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Tel Quel

je sais bien mai quand même

You belong to my imagination; poetic and lonesome. Our universe, (in my imagination) is a network of synapses, of questions and answers, of questions never answered, of answers awaiting questions. In the finitude of comprehension, I make the chaos of assumption that this, is ours, and ours alone. You belong to the language without a form, mantic like a siren song.

I opened my eyes, last night and saw you in the low light
Walking down by the bay, on the shore,
Staring up at the planes that aren’t there anymore
I was feeling the night grow old and you were looking so cold
Like an introvert, I drew my over shirt
Around my arms and began to shiver violently before
You happened to look and see the tunnels all around me
Running into the dark underground,
All the subways around create a great sound,
To my motion fatigue: farewell
With your ear to a seashell
You can hear the waves in underwater caves
As if you actually were inside a saltwater room


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