i listened to that on repeat and wrote this. i suggest you do the same while reading.

another feeling betrays this
passing season, the development of
human dentition, the decline of
the soviet union, i'll write a
book about them all and call it
winter. i've the sea chained to my
pocket watch, when it crests it looks like
men with white mustaches trying to
break the surface. leave em' to the
whales. leave em' to the jellyfish and
sharks and coral. i've no use for them,
for apples that aren't green, teas without
honey, moons i can't climb and
mountains i can't see. for christ's sake,
let them be. leave them to their own
devices, as they do with me.
let them sleep inside my piano.
let them rest atop my typewriter keys.
i deserve a ghost. one scared of it's
own reflection and kittens and spiral
staircases. don't take that away from me,
st. petersburg, what is it i've done to you?
i keep your snow in my teeth-
i keep your cold in my sleeves.
i've no message to november,
at the top of this hill sits another hill,
and atop of that another, we make
pencil marks on door frames to mark the
progress made and remaining distance until we
touch space. i want to know where you are,
december, i made a map of your dreams-
i've followed streams and estuaries.
i stitched my past to my future and
found only the present-
merry christmas,
i guess, to you and
to me.
Last edited by rushmore at Nov 18, 2011,
neat little free write. i feel it's a little too sporadic and it gets tangled in places, but it was interesting to read if nothing else.
I want Super Saiyan abilities
It seems a bit too random here and there, like you were throwing words at the piece because they were pretty, but as a whole, I really enjoyed reading this. Lines 1-8(and a half) are particularly amazing.
there are so many lines that work and some that fall flat. i wasn't a fan of the sea chained line, nor the don't take that away, st petersburg. however, such lines are insignificant when others are read - i've no use for apples that aren't green, moons i can't climb; i deserve a ghost, one scared of its own reflection and kittens and staircases; i keep your snow in my teeth, your cold in my sleeves; we make pencil marks on door frames...these lines did something for me. i don't know what it was, but they did something and i can't properly articulate it.
the only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones that never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn