You turn on a spindle. You are so much looser now but you're not explaining how you gained
such new repose. I touch the clasp of your locket, with its picture held, some secret you wouldn't
tell but let it choke your neck. So we imagine a darkness where all shapes divide, solids
changing into light, with a burst of heat so bright. Well fine, don't you do what I want you to.
Don't degrade yourself the way I do because you don't depend on all the shit that I use to make
my moods improve. Near a sea of pianos, there were waves of chords that crashed against the
shore in one huge and pointless roar. And there were girls bringing water, like a dream they
came to cure the fever of my brain, and soothe my burning throat. And they made me a
necklace, hanging beads of sweat on a string of my regrets, and placed it round my neck and
they were singing, Don't you do what you've wanted to. Yeah, don't destroy yourself like those
cowards do and maybe the sun keeps coming up because it has gotten used to you and your
constant need for proof.