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i would’ve crawled into the piano tonight, through the key hole, you know, the one that locks the cover over the keys? i would’ve played there, in the strings and those felt covered hammers of wood….i’d climb all up on that shit.

i’m looking for a cure…. idk…
maybe an exorcism…
a relief…
a band-aid?
i haven’t even wrapped my mind around this yet.

like in the “Great Divorce”;
My red lizard needs to be transformed into
a white stallion with golden hair…


Oh….shit…I’d ride that stallion home, holy shit, would I.
Where are the fucking mountains, anyway?
the horizon…it’s seems to have….disappeared?

God, why does it all seem so cliche since we’ve talked?
is this what happens with love?

That key hole,
it’s helped me transform blood into wine,
and, wine into blood;
red to blue, blue to black,
love to hate,
and confusion to dissociation;
dissociation to wholeness,
silver to gold,
heaven from hell….full bottles to empty bottles,
white bread into wholesome goodness,
hot ashes for trees,
clandestine to metaphor….and ….
i’m hoping…
red lizards into white stallions.

why did you leave?

I would’ve crawled into that keyhole tonight,
my hesitation is justified.
fuck you.
i wish you were here.

don’t take my red lizard.