[remember, its all in your head.]

backspace. there were some letters and some words, some spaces and some stops, but they don't live here anymore.
prerogative has always been a word laden with harsh tones, meanings and the unexpected. the unexpected, on the other hand, happens with monotonous regularity so that this and that are almost never what one sees in the here and now, rather one finds oneself quite without words. without denoting absence, but not loss. loss is deeper, more infiltrating into one's insides, when you feel all the cliches about a broken heart actually physically tearing through flesh. which is fallible, really - wounds always heal, but scars leave behind a mental note: don't do that again. is it unwise to find oneself in the same places with different people, to do the same things with different utensils? knives are pointy, but forks will tear you up inside. like cloth, ripped and shred to pieces so that its useless to anyone. why would anyone ever do that?
anyone - you could be anyone.

[its time for a classic..]

f c d b

it must be your skin that i’m sinking in,
must be for real 'cos now i can feel.
and i didn’t mind,
it’s not my kind,
not my time to wonder why.
everything’s gone white,
and everything’s grey.
now you’re here,
now you’re away.
i don’t want this,
remember that.
i’ll never forget where you’re at.

don’t let the days go by
glycerine.

f c b

i’m never alone,
i’m alone all the time.
are you at one,
or do you lie?
we live in a wheel,
where everyone steals,
but when we rise it’s like strwaberry fields.

i treated you bad,
you bruise my face.
couldn’t love you more,
you got a beautiful taste.

don’t let the days go by,
could have been easier on you.
i couldn’t change though i wanted to,
should have been easier by three,
our old friend fear and you and me.
glycerine
glycerine
don’t let the days go by
glycerine
don't let the days go by..

glycerine.
bad moon wine again.

i needed you more
when we wanted us less.
i could not kiss just regress.
it might just be,
clear simple and plain,
that’s just fine,
that’s just one of my names.
don’t let the days go by.
could’ve been easier on you,
glycerine.

Glycerine
Bush

september was when the clouds finally gathered, when the rains finally came. it was when it all hit you, suddenly, like a brick wall, pulling itself up despite your always trying to dislodge each individual piece. september was when we dove off rooftops, dared the sky, lived in the space between the clouds, and let the rain wash us clean.
we were purer, cleaner, more faithful, then. we were never innocent, but have never been quite so guilty.
milk dissolves in slow, twisting spirals, and you suddenly find yourself sinking to the bottom of another mug, another time, another day. things become so much simpler when you reduce them to the you and i, but in the here and now we don't always remember where we've been, where we want to go.

the slow hand quickens..

treetops will watch over you as you argue, as you pull this way and then that. do you realize? do you see? do you even remember september?