I want there to be music.Gravy boats sail on full throttle into maws of greedy botulism. Wonderful crawdads and heliotropic cancer cells wish that we could be for each other. I hate the word together and forewarn you not to use it or even think of it. Candles. Who lights so many candles? Circles of light and shadow, it reminds me of coffee rings, stains and ruined furniture. These are the times when nothing can be excavated. Does that mean nothing is there? Potential rings too, and it tastes like old coffee, so that's something.
What I wanted was to avoid the arrow-how base to be handed a destiny, the scurrilous accusations of joining the line to...to what? If there was music, another way of moving forward, this would drop away. Pedestal progressions leading more cups my way. More rings. More stains. Less candlelight. Less.
I want there to be music.