the rain

tip tap
click clack

the soundtrack to a rainy day in portland

the piano is the song of the rain
the typewriter the song of my brain
my music has always been the rhythm,
the “wave of the mind”
the shards of ivory keys
liquid drops of dead elephants
the silent tapping of fingers
that create fluid notes that pound the ears
deafening silence of an internal struggle
a world
us all


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These lives we follow

This is the life we follow.

A choice we’ve made not to lead.

To live what life others give us.

To take and want and despise them.


because we chose

not to please ourselves,

but others.

And so we blame

all others.

We waste the time others carve us.

Trudge through the work others hand us.

We feed off food they’d never eat.

Buy the clothes they made for us.

Dream the sleep of not enough.

This is the life we follow.

A life not lived, hollow.


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