HER
 

play a different melancholy song

it could've been intuitive. a comforting laugh & suddenly

nah. perhaps I was nothing... in that, each absence was touching- there's something in that. all these absences, touching, until we'd averaged the nothing we'd had. stretched across avenues, sunless- perhaps, we could sleep into the dusk. fuck- we'd make a lovely collapse [lovely]. but in fact, I've dreamed such a state of wanting that nothing could match, a wanderlust that swallows us, stuck in the map-

repetitious. babe, you were nothing. non-existent- & there's something in that, state of wanting, that had made it so frustrating nothing could match. nothing-

imagine sleeplessness haunts me. it's not serious, no worries, no blame to be dealt. I see every haunting yet disbelieve every hell. Laughed at my friends who settled for less/ then asked them again if they were ever depressed-

uncentered. been writing letters for others i never could send. I'm measured in breaths.
walden. for acres. aches for a pond,
letters for your life & you stayed for the song

Women are my favorite muse, and judging by this and bedside manner I'd say they are yours, too. This was the best thing I've read in the OM in awhile. Really great stuff here, especially the ending. Peace, man.

Thanks, Zen. read your feed on RB & thank you. we should definitely collab again, hit me up when you have something &/or I'll hit you up when I have something

"uncentered. been writing letters for others i never could send. I'm measured in breaths.
walden. for acres. aches for a pond,"

These were two lines that were beautifully done, the stanza that used nothing as its basis toward its completion or incompletion, in terms of what it hoped to deliver, was not my favorite. Simply because while nothing inherently has various meanings, to us all, it can ironically be used to say nothing at all.

Not to say you did not say anything, that would be a folly statement to say, but there was a sense of inhibition, a restriction of not only feeling, but of connection to the self. That nature of spontaneity and resonance that undermines the essence of what we write, and what for. I felt you did not write this in candor, but had a sense of trying to mimic something that while has had an impression on you, there is still a lack of inspiration to deeply draw it out, and cast it into the realm of expression for us to be in awe in. Entrenched into not only the emotive cause, but the insight to how you've managed to control what you possess, in your neural network of memories, and impressions.

This section was pretty much flawless. Introspective, witty, deep. "Nah, perhaps it was nothing, in that, each absence was touching, there's somethin in that -- all those absences touching until we'd averaged the nothing we had".

Great wordplay, the switch-around of the rhyming word was smart, and it's poignant and true, too. Got a really off-beat, listenable rhyme scheme here. It's all cerebral, thoughtful, you've definitely done this subject justice by writing it in this style.

The last line was great. Accepting it for what it is, being grateful, recognizing times change, cherishing experience. Makes a lot of difference from the usual "get money, fuck bitches" bullshit we hear from all the broke people on this website, day in day out.

I liked it.

Awesome, didnt like "averaged" though - seemed too logical a word choice amidst such a stream of conscienceness piece. The reptition of some phrases was cool - fun nod to that in the third stanza. Ending referencing walden was great.

avenues, sunless and the last stanza was my favorite.. seemed unwilling to attach to the idea of her, or more purposely detached from the resolution, a gradual fade to history, with nothint to show for it at any point in time

*pours whiskey*