I am wild

Violins play when I am wild. I have written my life away. In the air there are no instructions. I am not afraid.

I love it when I find a book that I open. I read between the lines. There is a book that is always open. It is organic and agreed with others. Some of it is transcendental. Open wide, open eyes. Some of it has been given away by Robert Fripp. On a tiny USB. It is filled with joyous stories and songs that make you hold your head in your hands. When you are given files, you store them away forever.

Chorah! Chorah! Drums that come in the night. When the flies come and land on my eyelids and the bells ring. Tallah! Tallah! Lou Reed held my hand and I felt like things could be different. They could be different. His little dog snuggled at my feet and Mo Tucker cradled his arm on one side and Laurie on the other. They were always together, in one way or another. Sleeping alongside each other.

Hope in the drums. Hope in the bells. Lallak! Lallak! The trees no longer know where the next breeze is coming from. Blood sugar, yes. It's sugary sweet. The original reason why her eyes were stabbed, yes. Of course. Like travelling syrup. through the ages of my veins. The breeze of life. I would not care if it came and took me now. Away to the place where Lou Reed is. It's a Big Star Holocaust, it's not Lemonade.

Akham! Chorah! Akham! Dante is holding my hand.