I grow inspired with these sounds.
I grow insecure and flexible and then they can make me feel whatever, think whatever.
I listen to your weak guitar and all those synthesized sequences
and then I find myself dreaming your body is expulsing them as you dance, your organs working on every rhythm, every sad note, every twinkling beat.
And my ears are the wheels to every place in your mind, you say this is a gift to me. It is.
A song, a song with no words, my name is the only thing that matches, like a Sunday tablecloth scrap to your picnic universe.
Show me how love sounds, guide me to your head, drive me with your music.
If I find myself deaf one day
will you think of me as dead?
