It’s all out of whack,
in the middle of my desk.
A lot of old papers
weights on my arteries.
And I don’t push them
To get strong.
And they don’t save the love song.

Clothes, papers,
Things, papers,
Ideas, papers.
All piling into a stack
That I stack
And i stack
and I stagger
Like that.

Someone help me invert it.
Crystalline, new to shine.
I AM the lens to focus the sun.

I’m the paperweight on top of you, things.
And I’ll let you all fly.
(Keep some
What might be mine)
(And lose some
In reckless abandon,
That could have helped us shine.)

But if it all stays
It’s all gone.
Or…

A wild chance comes along
As I march to the future
With a movement, rhythm

This IS a love song.
melancholic
Or EUPHORIC:
Play on.
Play on.
Play on.