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{360} aleah sato all that matters is the sound of running water. it's only a formula of anger and pleasure. it keeps you awake at night, thinking no one would know how you can't stop it. you struggle in the concealed world, but all that matters is the thousand deer chewing corn, the padded steps of dogs howling under the eclipse. it is what you hold like no one could know the glass in your hand, the bullet between your teeth - how you held a doe's beating heart gasping its blood, and it reminded you of the night you rode headfirst into metal bars. the girl you drove did not remember, then also bled into a gasp, a carnival. but all that matters is bats flying, the way they heal by screaming the wonder into infinite blackness. you think no one knows the way you swallow swords on a high wire, the smell of your breath on a 2 a.m. bender - tears that fall and keep falling, no matter what disease you catch, what audience you capture. all that matters is your temporary shelter. it's a formula of anger and pleasure. it keeps you awake at night wondering why you can't stop it. |
