2588. Rhythmlessness
This is “Rhythmlessness.” It’s the moon always.
I can’t put any of this together. It’s like the dark, crazy age of a new music. But no dance to go with it.
We clap our rocks together instinctually. The rhythmlessness of secrets...
Are you the one playing the coconut?
The brutality of another sunset...or sunrise...
But nobody will believe you.












