(…) and you want me to consider them in that light

there’s no space as our space that has no space of one’s own
and it tried with time but it’s frozen in history
and if ice could melt and rise up
and your window could be my mirror and your mirror could be my window
and we could look together and maybe see fields of violets and lavender sun
and we could touch one another and love each other
a reverse in violet to remake the sound of undernotes and undertones and resonate it through space
and even through white papers of violated notes from beings in time or even embodied archives with rain fingers of lies to light up that story on the count of a natural thing, as if it’s a natural thing, human thing, think, this story, his story, endthere’s no space as our space that has no space of one’s own
and it tried with time but it’s frozen in history
and if ice could melt and rise up
and your window could be my mirror and your mirror could be my window
and we could look together and maybe see fields of violets and lavender sun
and we could touch one another and love each other
a reverse in violet to remake the sound of undernotes and undertones and resonate it through space
and even through white papers of violated notes from beings in time or even embodied archives with rain fingers of lies to light up that story on the count of a natural thing, as if it’s a natural thing, human thing, think, this story, his story, end