The world doesn't speak
plain fucking English, so I have no idea what it wants from me.
I can only live by
figuring out what I want from the world.
I want the flow of continuity from the pool filter to run all day and at night too. That sound filters me like the water that
runs through it. If darkness never
arrived on any day, happiness would longer stay and I'd be overjoyed or
freckled indefinitely.
I want to know the written
word intimately. The way it defines and
mirrors all that is known.
There isn't much I want,
but I have lived long enough to know that wanting to be read, pains like
something that longs to be dead.
