They’re painting what’s good to think, not eat
– Lacrimae Sitis –
– For Ann –
Recently, it has been discovered that salt water exists on asteroids- the tears of eternity.
I wish I could gather all the things I ever saw myself being, but it seems that all of the ropes are out of my hands. And since I can’t regain the vision, even the sight becomes forgotten. And yet I still strain to think I can crawl a little further on and finally see over, finally feel the light from a long dream ago.
The ability to measure any distance is also a gauge of the future.
Sometimes I also feel that I’ve told it all, in pieces here and there, in shards of memories placed in mosaic along the time I spend with another. But what do I do with the gems of your tears, and the dew of your words, mirror-smooth upon your softness, warm against my fingertips, and alive between my lips?
Small machines, scurrying over alien soil, are already our eyes and tongues.
My fear is the kind that silences the cry for help, that fills the territory with long paths in uncertain directions, traipseless distance.
Truth is always something freed from an obsessive longing.
But I always want my sadness to be a knowledge, since it is the earth beneath my feet, and the melody between my ears. And I guess I wish it to be the wind at your back.
But how cruel wishes can be.
Only a child would put an alien in a closet.
My sadness is deep, but I know there is a happiness on the other side, a simple turn away, but I will clutch the air until the poles reverse.
And I always wish, inside down deep, that it could all start over, that every sad and wet tear would prism the world anew, butterflies in the breeze, sun on our skin.
Rings in our eyes.
Title of the unrecorded, unreleased, album.