Like as a Simile

by Octothorpe and the Aglets

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Words, Pt. 2 06:50
"Do you think satisfaction precludes good art?" we asked ourselves in the dark. "Don't let me get stagnant," you reminded me every year. "Did you hear she got married?" "Well, I hope she still suffers; her output might never get better," as we stared where the clouds were, imagined their shapes, sipping beer (or whatever). Once you see spirals unlace, you cannot erase the reveal. Once you've got a taste, you've bought the meal. We spoke separate languages, as far as I could surmise. While you talked in tongues, I saw through lies; when you looked at last, my lungs were tied. The words will never matter to someone like you. I'm sorry for that. I'm sorry for the end. You turned all your kittens to cats, measured your vast aspirations in ash. You paraded your presence through ample apartments like pageants. At the cost of the cavalcade, did your exhaust dissipate? How long have you waited, and what are you waiting for? Your cats have all died, I imagine. Still I'm in search of a space, where the id and idea collide. Where will we go when the ego won't decide? Will the death of the self be enough to repel the bereft or to bridge the divide? I don't know where else to shelve my pride. (I don't know if I could if I tried.) The words will always matter to someone like me. I'm sorry for: The sorry. And the way we spun out in the storm. And the way we got lost. The words will always matter to you as much as me. I'm sorry. The words will never matter to me as much as you. But like the storm we made, I'll make it through. The words will only matter to someone like you if someone likes you. Does someone like you? The words will only matter 'cause someone likes you. I like you. I hope you get out of the storm. I hope you make your way out of the storm. I hope you find your way out of the storm. I hope you stay out.
Speak plainly.
An Alogy 02:58
I’ve pulled you away, so tell me your story. Tell me the words you used to say before you got boring (like how you live from stick to poke (like a broken metronome)) and then take me home. Take me home before the moonlight fades away. We’re bound to seem much different in the dawn’s decay, but who can say? Who knows? Time goes. I'll drive you to work if you drive me to madness. I only subsist now off coffee grounds and sadness. No longer mind the traffic much; all I touch turns monochrome. I dread coming home. You’re not home when you destroy the inner peace. You treat each conflagration as a colorful release. At least it shows that you know: Time goes. You’ve torn me away, so tell me you’re sorry. Tell me the words I will replay again next morning. Show me you got a new tattoo; doesn’t it prove how much you’ve grown? Then leave me alone. Leave me alone before the feelings reconvene. You know when we revert, our cardinal hurt turns evergreen, and so let go. (I know...) Time goes.


More to come?


released January 9, 2019


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Octothorpe and the Aglets Minneapolis, Minnesota


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