This instrumental keeps playing over and over again. The unbearable sound of empty words creates the type of uselessness that would never tire. Hidden in the depths of 4/4, the metronome of mind and thoughts continues to pulsate in its most recognizable form, taking shape, the strong hold of this corset no longer exist in the matter of what once was. Intermittently, strings are pulled and style protrudes, opening the ears to past and future possibilities, explanations and contracts, surely unwritten, but scribed in Braille so only fingertips can begin to understand. Leading into the physical and gradually but reassuringly composing this unlawful feeling of purpose with promises toppled on chest and back, scratches an itch that will soon return. And after the fading of such suckling scents only the memory, hosting the capacity, will provide a melodramatic comfort, and as it was stated once before “sweet dreams” will then become doorways to the future. Only here and there in those moments will the discovery occur of what was once said to be true to you, only in your mind, becomes this fantasy. For you were neither here nor there, but just simply sleeping.
-EH
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