UNTITLED ❋ Bridget Boylan

i can dissect your drawings into smaller parts
i can define your statements to objective leanings
i can trace your face in observation
i can respond without thinking
i can not listen to you

here is where a poem turns
here is where i become conscious

i am feeble in my turnings transgressions and transits

i can hear a baby crying through the walls
i can have 9 abortions a year if i want

//

you can not listen to me
you can roll a smoke
you can turn on a different album
when i start talking you can turn towards a friend and incite conversation
a different conversation

it’s hard to keep that balance
the tuning is the same but way lower
normal chords still it’s so deep
i love it man