Not just from the tape but time:
How to be new in the reboot, to forget
That every passing site is occupied
By a memory of something shared, if not real.
The ability to resist has loosened
And you are back on the track
You never lost sight of, for all roads
Converge where you pay attention --
Do you know where your thoughts are?
Watch what you manifest, it practically screams:
It's too garish, too much like a mob murder,
The slow process of subtraction to get
To the one. We'll always have sometimes
But the timelines are a shifting and
Nothing was built the way it was in our minds.
We just can't hold on to the texture of how it all
Went down, when nothing really mattered but the way
It made us feel, but, when someone hands you money,
You take it.
The Florentines famous for their paper
Had engravings of secret practices at best
Only surmised, but there it is like flies in the still life
Still standing in ashamed dignity, still monitoring
Signals we give off for what not to say.
