decay.

For some reason knowing I must backtrack and pick up pieces where I've left them be, find time to write from notes a year or two old because before the metaphors of space and Andromeda and Voyagers and galaxies I know there was something else that I've wanted to write and so in the dark at the piano this rhythm just seems to work perfectly and surprisingly I find it easy to jot down notes to go with this in C major where I hear an enormous grand piano and a guitar with a very strange delayed effect not at all unlike the sound of a Leslie speaker  that reverbs and cycles and reverbs and cycles in harmony with the piano and maybe underneath it all a low sample (or electric bass indistinguishable) and then the piano ends and the low sample fades but the guitar reverbs and cycles and reverbs and cycles and I walk away all the while this voice in my head only partly saying ~

I have tried to find a way

to start to say that I have tried to know the pain

to know the scene that you portray

the smile the lines designed to say

how I have felt for all this time the same

and I'm surprised that here I find it says again

that time has passed away and lost in space I cannot say

why it too cannot pass away

no matter your gaze your pose your stand

I've felt this way I've crushed the sand

and know it has to be this way

impossible to decay

Maybe some day I'll have a chance to go through old pictures and scan and crop and convert and post something here that fits the idea but for the time being it's just this everything in my head and now this old, crumpled notebook scribbled to death (and too I guess this blog).