With All Due Respect, If You’re Forty-three,

It's The Belief, Not The Words, That Mean Everything. It's The Floating.

There Was A Time Before You But I Can't Remember It Now A Time Before Your Beauty And I Were Formally Introduced I'm Sure I Lived Without You But I Don't Remember How Can't Imagine Living Without These Feelings You've Produced Just One Glance And My Life Was Redrawn Just One Word And My Vocabulary Changed I Asked The Time And You Said 'what's The Hurry?' You Asked My Name And I Almost Forgot

But Death Is Not Freedom. For A Moment, It Can Look Like Freedom. But Then It's Death. Anything. Something. Nothing.

I Don't Even Know What I'm Looking For, Although I Hope I'll Know It If I Find It Along The Way. Sometimes I Want To Simplify My Life Into A Simple Bare Thing. And Other Times I Want To Complicate It So Thoroughly That Everything I Touch Will Become Bound In Some Way To Me. I've Become Quite Aware Of My Contradictions, But There's No True Resolution In That.

We Are So Used To Releasing Words. We Don't Know What To Do With Them If They Stay.