maybe it was our love of the dark       again again, I didn't know what to say
i've never known what to say
again, and again, i wrote to you of the heart of the matter: how it was, in the final instance, only memory; and how together, we needed to understand, this: together.

again, it was you, wasn't it, hiding behind your colours?
how many times have we told you
again, here they were without prejudice

it feels like time

time to call for change in all the wrong places in all the places that i cannot speak of, here i am censored of speaking of all the places i so wish to change

(I had seen him before)
creator /