We make noise, noise noise noise.
We make noise, noise, noise noise.
The notion repetition, the word sending me through the day. Blocking out the notions that drive me up the wall.
Fighting the impulse to scribble where I can.
The rhythm having me floating through whatever I have to do for the day. If only I could constantly be floating, swerving, dodging the sight of those who can't and won't see me.
Never as I demand to be.
No you don't deserve what you can catch glimpses.
You just get this noise, noise noise noise.
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When not making noise, or moving through noise, or seeking out sound, or processing my surroundings.
I think a lot about remaking myself, dismantling myself. Having that imminent sense of loss, of how much has to change. And How much I can.. I can bear to live through that change.
I've often thought about not wanting to be when so many things breakdown. But things are breaking down now. And all I can consider is wanting to remake the self, remake with others, to building and destroy and shift and be. To lean into the necessary sense of ambiguity .. some of which relates to interconnectedness, some of which relates to something else entirely.
