There is (at least) two characters.

She, the narrator.

And he, the composer.

You are the witness.

And maybe, this has nothing to do with you.

So many thoughts inside his mind.

In order to be a good composer, you have to be sensual.

I love the way you touch me.

No one knows the way you touch me.

People are allowed to envy me, but they can’t have what is rightfully mine.

They will be allowed to look at me if they have good intentions.

They will not be allowed to comment on me if the comment alienates them from their own ideas.

I am interested in the way that we look at this.

I am looking at myself.

This man is me.

You are looking at me.

And you are looking at a man.

I am tall and have a good jawline.

I am looking at you knowing that you think of me.

I have some footage of us in bed that I think is very good.

What do we have here?

I will tell you what we see.

I say:

You are looking at me.

Maybe too obvious of a cameo.

I guess I understand.

We are back inside his male mind.

It is very male in there.

If you want to be a good composer, you have to to be spiritual.

You have to have a snack.

You need to eat well.

You need to drink only as much as you have to.

And if you drink, you have to consider the degree to which alcohol will be useful to you.

In this moment.

Firstly with regards to the next day.

Then with regards to the whole week

to the month, to the whole year

and then eventually, your lifetime.

A lifetime is composed of various instances of consumption.

I want to live a life of integrity while constantly arguing with myself.

If I am going to say that I am torn, you can’t do anything about it.

Nobody is ever reliable.

But you can have the wish to be.

If you want to be a good composer, you have to have good memory.

Being in this poem,

he misses you terribly.

What is your hand doing in your pants?

That hand has touched him the night before.

It made him experience emotional and sexual attachment.

Things he does not admire about himself.

He envies your senses.

He feels an urgency, but he lacks insistence.

While actually he finds nothing to insist upon.


He felt anxious that day.

Nervous. Self-conscious. Not normalized.

What holds narrator and composer together is the expectation to float on the other’s insecurities and be carried for a while.

My mouth is the best clockwork.

If you keep it running, you are in touch with your mortality.

My mouth is the best clockwork.

What the two have in common is a constant crippling worry.

My mouth is the best clockwork.

What we share, you and I, is that we are afraid that we will lose each other.

That the other will find a better opportunity to escape themselves.

The positive version of this would be.

My life has shape without you, but it is quite rough.

I receive a call.

It is him, he is wondering about my hand.

What it is doing in this moment.


Yes I am just narrating.

Yes maybe tomorrow is a better time.

Yes I love you too.

Excuse me.

If you want to be a good composer, you have to have good eyes.

My motives for choosing how to spend my time are mostly intrinsic to the choices.

Extrinsic motives repel me.

People who have extrinsic motives are mostly very absent.

It is always easier to have a motif than a motive.

The motif of this work is a weakness of character.

The motive is the composer’s job.

I guess he is masturbating right now.

He wasn’t in the mood.

His mood had other plans for him.

He is trying to be charming because he wants so much from other people.

His heart is always sweetly looking out for you.

You are burnt into his consciousness. Branded.

What are his ideas about ethics?

He was frustrated.

But then he told himself the world is big and one is probably in the wrong place all the time.

You tried your best and if the stars don’t align with how you wanted them to be,

then that is what you have to take.

Then sometimes your hair shapes up quite nicely.


Yes, I am just narrating.

It is one a clock in the morning and a hot summer night.

And this is the face of New York when it is asleep.

This is the narrator.

She is dead. I hated her and I couldn’t get her out of my mind.

She lost a lot of money gambling, and then she died.

Some day a real rain will come and wash all that scum off the streets.

Goodbye, I love you too.

He is abusing himself constantly.

He truly never meant to. It is in his nature that he is abusive.

He is trying not to be.

I am being serious, not defensive.

I won’t stop being weak until you can accept my weakness.

There is an obsession in her but she has it under control.

If there were no other requirements for production, he would just use it to tell you how he loves you.

If her metabolism was faster, then she would be wittier, too.

Let them see what kind of person she is.

I imagine you to say.

I imagine him to think.

He will never trust you again.

Back and forth back and forth.

He wants to touch you he wants to touch you he wants to touch you.

Nobody else can touch you.

Nobody else can have you.

All he wants is you.

His mind is spinning because he is obsessed.

To be drowsy can be advantageous.

Evolution gave us drowsiness so that we can cope with loss.

I have some footage of us in bed that I think is very good.