I hate that you have no answersbut I also hate good cops looking for excusespour the heavy molasses of my unrequited griefinto your fillable chestthen hang up sweet iron cathartic fist fight on our tongues Do you call me to hear them?in between the waves of repeating myselfa screeching cry cracks apologies in choking sobs,…
music can be about beautiful, beautiful, beautiful repetition.