I’m picking apart the linear perspective of time. In the moment, writing the “best” words feels crucially urgent. That doesn’t last long. When I read what I wrote a year ago, it summons only fragments of its original attachment. How does this happen?
i feel like i’m running out of time, but i don’t yet understand my purpose. there’s a stopwatch counting the seconds; each time i gaze over at its total, i’m reminded of all i haven’t done. this should be motivation, but once in a while it converts to defeat. one allure of lyrics is they’reContinue reading “stopwatch counting the seconds”