Besedila: Emocapella. Aside (Weakerthans).

Measure me in metered lines, in one decisive stare, the time it takes to get from here to there. My ribs that show through t-shirts and these shoes I got for free; I'm unconsoled, I'm lonely. I am so much better than I used to be. Terrified of telephones and shopping mall, and knives, and drowning in the pools of over lives. Rely a bit to heavily on alcohol and irony. Get clobbered on by courtesy, in love with love, and lousy poetry. And I'm leaning on a broken fence between Past and Present tense. And I'm losing all these stupid games that I swore I'd never play. And it almost feels okay. Circumnavigate this body of wonder and uncertainty. Armed with every previous failure, and amateur cartography, I breathe in deep before I spread these maps out on my bedroom floor. Leaving. Wave goodbye. Losing, but I'll try, with the last ways left, to remember. Sing my imperfect offering.