hothspamcake

looking for inspiration in the chaos of this bedroom
in the crunch of a guitar
in the dependence of others
in the raised voice of a father
in the misunderstanding of a marriage
in lights crashing through a broken window
in shadows painted by obstacles
in new life being handed over to those in need
in being afraid of speaking over those who need more
in the way you move your legs
in the moment in which you grind your teeth
in the determination burrowed in your brow
in the way your hands clasp around my waist
in the cosmic popsynth bluessynth funksynth slapsynth jazz organ pipe organ buttons on this music maker
in the uncomfortable presence that stitches bring to the top of my head
in the fixing that collections of noise exerts on a soul
in watching minds create
in watching myself deteriorate;


it was found hidden in my bed sheets.