I’m trying and not trying to grow older and younger—not thinner, hopefully, stronger—more me and less them; me, myself, I’ll keep you. Dressing and undressing, I keep sleeping and not sleeping, dreaming…maybe there is one word I just haven’t learned, one word that’ll help. Words are like shadows, make people like shadows, and feelings are hard stone. Can you feel my words? No, no, I didn’t think so. The most eloquent euphony still is not Love. I would cut out my heart or unhinge my scalp if that’d accomplish something.

            I can’t try very hard. Should I use ephemeral...“the white-black-electric buzz in my eye-lids; the ephemeral phosphene glow...You’re beautiful, and I can’t press you out of my mind.” Something like that, or “Your celestial face drives a celiac fall; I try to efface your body from my dreams. But your essence I call as my head you exalt; if I were to knock you what would anything mean?” But I never use these words just like I don’t use empyrean, evince, effervescent, efflux...I’d give them to you if I could, if they were mine...how can I make this shadow as pretty as possible? The most eloquent euphony still is not Love.

             I’ve been young for eighteen years. Later, I’ll be old. Dressing and undressing. The people try to get through it, make it easy, go numb...walk around, cower sheepishly like they’ve just pissed their pants, hide themselves, mask themselves, forget themselves...who? Concern themselves with endless tasks, illusory DRAMA, trouble over shadows of trouble, a distilled, processed and packaged form of life...Don’t try, I think, I think you shouldn’t try; we’re all getting there, breathe out...you’re dying too, now don’t try...shower, scratch, writhe naked on the floor, go into a backward somersault and land in new, in always, in self. Piss everywhere. I want to paint the space around me with these shadows. Good and bad shadows...I want people to know me...I Love...the most eloquent euphony still is not Love.

            “A picture’s worth a thousand words,” but what is you worth? You, my favorite word...without light, inspiration, there’s not even shadow...

            Is it over? Am I done? What does it look like? The most eloquent euphony still is not Love.