blasting through fabrics
or felt,
of which, i am not aware.
my youth in minor and major,
arpeggiated years of partically wished
re-existance.

blast forward to now;
sit next to me, hear me speak
of a shared experience
before we met.
you know exactly how i feel.
nothing will ever feel like this again.
be.here.now.

blast foward to then;
i will be aware of the know,
this perpetuates my existance
through shareds of the ugliest sounds
that ever appeared so beautiful.

we will lower the volume,
clean up the collections
and take out the trash on the regular.
but the notes will not blur
the recapitulation all the more obvious
to aged, experienced ears.

burn bright late night,
blast off great sky,
make light young mind
breathe deep lunged eyes.