Ghosts

photo 3-1_905

That was around the time that I started to write in the past tense, to make things sound more romantic. I liked how the hallway was filled with sounds- with the piano’s clink or the snare’s whispering pshhhh. It’s fine to write in the present tense, but it’s so much easier to make the past sexier and cleaner than how it had really happened. I thought that all these random sounds kind of mirrored how you could think about something for a second and then, without warning, BAM a switch went off and you were back on an older thought, like I wonder why everyone was white in that commercial, we aren’t all white I’m dying what floor is the caf on, i want tea the thing about commercials is that they’re trying to convince people with the most money to buy their thing, and maybe, well, white people have the most money, old white money, renting rent-free land for profit money, slavery money, we fucking invented currency money, i’d really like some baked potatoes those ones with the olive oil rosemary and that unreal sea salt. I thought that it sounded angsty enough to be cool, if only in fifty years, and pictured my dead face on the products of 2064. There was this sense of distance, too, in the hallway, seeing no players but still hearing the sounds- ghosts, maybe, relatives of dead elephant keys, unseen in the hallway, murdered musicians who were used as ladders, a ledger line to step on, why give credit to a barbarian- and the doors that separated the sounds moved like doors in a canal: Siphoning water through submerged grates, green, pulling from the lesser space, from the unnatural space- an elephant- octopus hybrid is harder to tame than a horse- borrowed to fill this new basin, called a capital-C-Classic, look at how full it is compared to that one, universal, timeless: Ideas shared by the person at the front, talking down to the seated- whether in a friendly, or mean, or indifferent way- always down to the seated- whether in a conscious or unconsciously racist way- always down to the seated, down to the ignorant in need of Enlightenment- always down to the seated in Room 111C- sharing a list of Recognized Artists who invented music, tell me what was done before so that I will remember to forget.

colour by Alexis Diaz
word by Liam

Author: Word and Colour

words inspired by colour wordandcolour.com

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