Saturday, August 31, 2013

Both Hands


Sometimes I feel as if we're holding our fight out 'till someone has something real to say. The piano made me say that. The piano makes things shift and I can see things more clearly as if I had a fully body grand infront of me and now I have only its strings. Like I've pulled the thing apart, to know how it works and I'm waiting for my brain to switch from hearing the music to only hearing beaters upon strings. When I am in deep concentration, I either have my brow furrowed or my mouth hangs open letting everyone see my crossbite and lack of wisdom teeth. Instead of concentrating, I am going to talk it through because the only words I could find in myself to sing this evening were 'I'm holding my fight out, I'm holding my fight out with both hands.'

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