tickle my ear with promise,
but say what you will.
weak will bends lobes
hard of hearing.
sounds ring strong of
pitches over thrown.
hearing a present predicted
but remembered at present.
looking back for that
which travels from ahead.
well, it comes from more
than one head, but
perspective is personal.
i’ll put my hands up
but don’t hold me to it.
did your hear that?
no, i didn’t.
why not?
it wasn’t directed to me.
i thought it was.
i thought it wasn’t.
was it said then?
it was, but only to whose ear listens?
i’m not sure if you can hear it, but i do. it’s strange. no, who am i kidding, it’s very common. we hear what we hear, regardless of what others hear. sounds pitched to waning attention. did you catch that because i thought i heard what i didn’t hear. since when should i think to hear?
head of glue
things stick
coloured points
blend over time
balance dried
fault breathes
there’s this whisper in my ear.
others can’t hear it.
i’m sure if they do,
it doesn’t speak what i hear.
the wind of such eloquence tickles my ear,
although, others have stated such experience.
who am i to discredit them,
because like them,
i’ve felt the wind.
it’s just that this caress
seems to differ to theirs.
can either of us be wrong?
of course, to one another.
but are we really wrong if
we follow our true nature?
