The cops were here for a minute I'm afraid of the shaking main - left side Miho - not famous and drawing bigger than expected Is pointing, her arms like whips, body ghostially Under our fluorescent lamp That's stage lighting This isn't loud? MY ears are too full of rigor and cum meta-cum-laude
I've decorated my life Like musicians aught to do But not necessarily The Kinds of musicians that I want to be
I am my senses among Other Things Some of them are decoractions Which I sense Ugly, clashing, unmatched And the music in the katch Riled, strident, complex Wound up around abstractions Of concepts designed To Make physicality Comprehendable. Words don't do that. Words are music.