here we go again
the feeling of not feeling
the music without melody
the poem without metre

it all swims in my head devoid of emotion
these stanzas, those paragraphs, those conversations, that knowledge
they swirl and they shimmer but where has the tone gone
those non-verbal shades just evaporate like water

dickens, tolkien, tolstoy, plath
mozart, sheeran, queen, presley
van gogh, hirst, dalí, ito
nothing but noise when your heart isn't in it

now down some pills
write it down
go to sleep
and repeat this tomorrow.

Tiny specks of black, smudges of green.

Black line, cut, slash, through the middle.

Staring into your soul.

Judging you.

Doesn't know what you are, but knows what you've done. Knows your little sins. Those twin eyes, piercing you.
Mind.
Soul.
Body.
Knows you.
Doesn't want to know you, but has no choice.

Black, white, lithe body. Sitting there, tail curled around its paws, trying to get comfortable. Ears angled directly towards your breathing body, trying to expose you. Nose twitching, trying to figure you out. Green eyes, black tinted, trying to understand.

It knows you. You're always here, but it doesn't understand why. You've done bad things, and it doesn't understand why.

Why does it care when you leave?

You feed it, shelter it, clean it, pet it, and it doesn't understand these things, or want these things. It doesn't understand. So why should it care when you're gone? Or mad? Or sad, or disappointed. Or scared, or happy, or cold, or anything. It doesn't understand.

It doesn't understand why it loves you.

But it does.

This sinning creature, laying immobile and unconscious in front of it. It's bad. A bad creature. Why does it care for this bad, sinning creature? It shouldn't. It knows it's bad, and it knows it's bad to care.

But it does.

And unfortunately, always will. It doesn't want your company, it doesn't understand it. But when your company isn't there, it craves it.

It loves you.

And too bad for it, it always will.

Unconditionally, forever.

MOVEMENT I (written to be performed on tárogató, accompanied by acoustic guitar)

"The morn rises o'erhead
The baker bakes the daily bread
The people smell the blooming roses
Happiness in smaller doses

The children go off to their school
And think learning is ever so cruel
But they'll wish these days back
Everyone will wish these days back

Glowing rays crown the apartments
It is, in return, dubbed glorious hence
Though the clouds will later darken
And the air will taste of iron"

MOVEMENT II (written to be performed on baritone saxophone)

"Radiant, glowing
Destructive but invisible
The naked eye suffers
The body faulters and wilts
Crime and agony
Pain and suffering
Endless, endless throes of woes
Breaths draw short
The air becomes thin
The water grows darker
Blackness overtakes
This is the realm of Death
Come to take ye
Who dare tempt his fated word.

You, whose body fails
Whose organs rupture and fall apart
I suggest you tell your fellow man
Die screaming
The alternative is far more sinister."

MOVEMENT III (written to be performed on contrabass clarinet, accompanied by prepared electric guitar and bowed cymbals)

"Bloom (wilt)
Grow (die)
Sane (mind)
Must (cry)
...
Decay (decay (decay (decay (decay))))
And a reminder for the future folk:
Bury your dead far beneath."

I miss you like the earth misses the sun, during the night while the world is hushed in its slumber. I miss you like I miss breathing because I've been holding my breath since our last goodbyes. I used to think time stood still in those moments when our bodies were entangled and our lips embraced eachother in a way that always seemed so familiar. But without you my love time has come to a complete stop. Seconds seem like hours and hours like days without you by my side. The broken pieces of my heart now resemble the sands of time slipping through an hourglass. And yet I still feel the pulsing beat in the voided emptiness left in my chest. I still love you and I always will. I wish I could take the pieces of my broken heart and fill a snow globe just for you so you will never forget the story of how I fell for you.

oh my darling angel you are the reason i’m still a person with skin
you are the reason i wake up in the morning and smile sometimes
with teeth sometimes without but smile nonetheless//you are the reason i eat
with such gusto because i know you would laugh at the way i wolf down pasta//you are
the reason for the hole in my chest in your absence i collapse like a dying star//you are the reason
i’m trying so hard to be better and//you are the reason i called my therapist’s office and said hi
yes could i please have a listening ear//you are the reason all my cuticles are picked ragged like
so many spiky sea animals warning you not to touch//you are the reason for my writing
the note you left me to write calling me “stinky” still sits on my shelf untouched//you are the reason i’m
insecure about my taste in alcohol//you are the reason i’m not insecure about my laugh anymore//you are the reason that my hair is soft and//you are the reason
i’m shaving my legs again//you are the reason i care about *** at all and//you are the reason it
scares me so ******* much
you are the reason for much of my life as it stands now proud and tall and shaking
like a fawn still wet from her mother’s womb

ME: I’ve called you all here today to ask you something.
BROTHER 1: [looking sideways at the door]
BROTHER 2: Hmm.
MOM: [smiling widely in that way that says she knows]
DAD: [smiling widely in that way that says he doesn’t]
ME: To be frank, I don’t think you all like each other very much. Is that true?
MOM: [smile gets tighter, hand reaches towards phone]
DAD: No, it’s not. [scratching side of head nervously]
BROTHER 2: Hmm.
BROTHER 1: You all bore me.
ME: We know we do.
MOM: [typing furiously]
[silence punctuated by dog licking his leg]
ME: So, now what?
BROTHER 1: [rolling eyes slowly and obviously] What do you mean, now what?
ME: Well, I mean where do we go from here?
MOM: We don’t. We just stay here or nothing at all.
BROTHER 2: Hmm.
DAD: What else can we do? How do we know doing anything at all would be better?
ME: I am tired of writing poems in my head about us. We have to do something.
[silence punctuated by dog coughing]
BROTHER 1: ******* and your poems. Do you want to hang out?
MOM: I love you all but I can’t stand any of you.
BROTHER 2: Can we be done now?
ME: We’ll never be done.
ALL: We’ll never be done.
[dog sneezes]