It Was A Silence That Heard Itself,

Where Happiness Was Not A Possibility, The Illusion Of It Was Always More Important.

I Grew Up Sort Of Middle Class, Safe And Suburban.

Memory Has A Heavy Backspin, Yet It’s Still Impossible To Land Exactly Where We Took Off.

He Said To Me Once That Most Of The Time People Use The Word Love As Just Another Way To Show Off They're Hungry. The Way He Said It Went Something Like: Glorify Their Appetites.

He's At Ease, His Body Sculpted To The Music, His Shoulder Searching The Other Shoulder, His Right Toe Knowing The Left Knee, The Height, The Depth, The Form, The Control, The Twist Of His Wrist, The Bend Of His Elbow, The Tilt Of His Neck, Notes Digging Into Arteries, And He Is In The Air Now, Forcing The Legs Up Beyond Muscular Memory, One Last Press Of The Thighs, An Elongation Of Form, A Loosening Of Human Contour, He Goes Higher And Is Skyheld.