antlers

Where did I hear this song? I walked down a blurring staircase, and heading down, I saw a figure of hands drawn along the walls. they were a mark from the Antlers. The song starts playing again: "Just too old, but we're not old, old at all." I hear it as a walk down, wondering how it got there. Wondering if my memory had actually just moved that image from one side of campus to the other side, wondering whether I imagine the writing on the wall at all. Now I listen to the song, fully, physically, and its sounds reverberate throughout the hollows of me. I'm grabbing at the light beams that seem to cast bars in shadow-work along my face. Like slices along my face, I can feel how sectored my being is, how divided and different, and distinct. I felt like I had fallen asleep, these pieces falling, as I wake again in this warm couch, with the warm glow of the computer facing me, its TJ Eckleburg eyes fixed on my faded, watery, dusted eyes. I acknowledge its blankness, nestling a poorly written student paragraph. My memories are flippant, easily extinguished. Why recount a story that's not a story anymore?

Does Anyone love me? Is question number 2. Will someone be able to feel who I am as a living breathing, fleshy, violin body, waiting for the bow to strum a serenade into bliss? I'm asleep on my couch, writing from wihin my dreams. I awake to remember that my soul is missing. Soulmate. I don't believe in soulmates, i believe in someone finding your soul for you, giving it to you for the first time, and you, with fresh eyes, able to appreciate it.