This is so today. Headache music. I am not sure I have ever read something that so perfectly captured my mood in the exact moment I felt it.

“I won’t hate you, I won’t love you./There is the possibility of floating”. Sigh.

Tired Of
–Patricia Hampl
Not the wrist of the sunset
which sinks every night
below the electrical wires—
that is pink, I’m not tired of pink.
But cover up the stars, the stars
are the absence of clouds.
Let the clouds come, clouds
are vague.
Say you didn’t betray me,
or am I being too clear again?
I’m a primary color
in your presence.
On the window sill a blue bottle
is filling with pink light.
I won’t hate you, I won’t love you.
There is the possibility of floating,
a pink loud is scudding by.
French-blue is right here,
it is serenity
even though the color is bright
and as you said, much too obvious.

(Edit, in response to this: “This sounds like something you’d like. It’s like bits in your soundtrack track listings. I might not be deep, but I know you well enough.”)