A white-winged dove’s cleaning its butt above me.
To my right a loud speaker of a bird’s working on mating.
In general, the air is filled with an air of care-free,
and I’m sitting here thinking, “what if”.

You’re so beautiful, my tree.
Shiny, stark, sparkling crystals at the top.
The sun’s setting soon
and I share your yearning.
But you are also patient.
One minute is one day,
with one purpose:
to harvest the air & the soil,
to fill the world with rhythms & stories,
to stand alone.
Do you feel pain,
or just the absence of something,
a need to be filled?
Do you strive because of it?
Is there a reason that
your roots are clenching the stones?
Do you aid the worms?
Do you plant the springs?
Will you ever stop?
Have you ever dreamt?
Do you breath with your whole being?
Or just, as much as you can?
Is it because life is calling?
Especially when the light is fading?
Pretty soon it will all be silence,
not even the birds would sing.
You keep on breathing
in the darkness
one breath to the next.

Aren’t your exhausted
selling what you haven’t got?
Or just a bit of who you are,
but really no one gives a fuck?
You’re the money-maker,
the signage to the gift-shop.
Or maybe you’re the main attraction
who wonders when the time’s gonna be up.
All the fine details few can afford,
not sure should celebrate you or leave you alone.
Baby, it’s lonely in a crowd.
Every one needs something something, a lot.
How much are you willing to give to please?
Your time, your life, your peace, your god?
For the sake of a polaroid undeveloped?
Someday, somewhere when the lights come on,
will you be there or will it be someone else?

The evening’s one of those,
too good to be true.
One star’s burning bright
like it was once told.
Traffic air, crystal light,
somewhere a clink
of an unseen cup or knife.
Intoxicated by the moment,
forgetting the day’s toil,
all too grateful to be alive,
for nothing but this quiet.

I don’t know if I’ve told you
but I love you so.
And you can’t deny me anymore
but I can’t say I’m yours.
Some candle light,
once or twice on summer nights,
the floating feels & minds
never touching the ground
when you are showing me around.

Have I been patient?
Was I too troublesome?
Gave me one chance,
then 2, then 3,
keeping me guessing what it is about.
Then maybe I’ve always known.
The journey is the reward.

I wish you well.

What do I have to do to get your attention?
I’m talking, why don’t you listen?
You can’t afford me to be your assistant.
So don’t interrupt me.

You don’t come from a higher shelf than mine,
so stop pretending you know the value of my time.
I’m talking straight-up business, alright?
So don’t interrupt me.

You don’t get to turn the page in this book,
I’m the one with the ruler & the robe.
Being in control while your life’s a merch.
So don’t interrupt me.

I don’t tell you to drop dead
even after you turn into a talking-head.
Oh, am I beneath your intelligent level?
Is communication all but impossible?

I ain’t your ass-kisser, your affirmation signage,
so shut up and be quiet for a change.
And hear what a grown woman has to say.
No? Nothing to teach you? You’ve seen it all?
Well, fuck off, you don’t get to interrupt me
just because, I’m a woman and talking sense
that is somehow not on your wavelength.
Voluntary deafness, dumbness,
something to conflict about?
Don’t interrupt me when I talk.

I wait for you to finish though.
I try to understand your point.
If you’re not gonna take your top-hat off,
feel free to be miserable all by yourself.

Big men & women who’ve seen it all,
but never learned to respect nor keep eyes open.
Don’t interrupt me because you don’t want to know
the human-being that’s across the room.

I don’t want to live like you.
I don’t want to be around you.
You could be holding the golden ball,
I’d still tell you where you belong.

It’s no use, I make it a big deal.
Don’t interrupt me, or get outta my face.