("Gimmicks") Fear - is that what brought me here? Is that what stuck me here? In this chair...this screen...the open window. [the sunlight prods me with its itching fingers. Compelling.] There are two or three results to all television series, and all my writing. Pornography keeps me company - I'm mostly silent about the company that I keep. [A touch for the beautiful - what would I recall?] I was a beam of light and got stuck on the smallest point [the tiniest detail] I was a beam of light and got caught in the camel's eye. And now I'm baffled here. [Sunlight, warmth, the kindness of strangers. Stretched out on a rock, the sun looks down on me. Asks - what is it you have to offer? Surely even you, tiny as you are, have a heart, a tiny, ticking little heart.] This part is a sing-along - "I don't belong here" [A ticking clock, stretched out] Ache - For your obscurity Stifle your obscenities A touch for the beautiful - the rose ascended and hit its mark, shot down the rocket from the sky. [The uppermost planets] I was a beam of light but got caught in the needle's eye. [The sun tricks my eyes to see] There can be gimmicks in even the smallest things - I wrote with the lights out - And tried to work on being kinder, on empathy. [Sun speaks to me] - "eliminate envy" [But that nagging itch] I started digging up hatred in even the subtle things, And played it in subtler ways. Hate - is that what kept me here? Hate, or this ache, or fear? ("Sunspots") [Fear picked me up and out, and boredom and confusion. It's the fall.] This is the slow death of concern The slow death of interest. [But in the sunset glow, I was reminded] It had been employed before - the slow death of the trees through the fall. My vision was clouded with sunspots, and the drifting leaves. [The wind carries me up, a-flutter] Realized I hadn't come up with any of it myself, it was the slowed rhythm of the world. [In the still, this reminder:] Sadness was a symptom, not a purpose. Sadness was a symptom, not a virtue. A rag daubed the corners of my eyes, clouded with sunspots Looked to the left and right And pretended to mutter while walking the sides, the world's murmur of words./ New obsessions - people don't work out. [They tell you,] "show us your next trick" Lie to anyone who asks you that. New obsessions - I'd eschew kindness for a moment of silence. Would I? But for the attention paid that was gained by a kind eye. A planned sneak [around the same routes] Rattle through all the things that I need to say. Never thought I'd be roped into that. [Was it worth it?] Was my pen as good as I thought? Was I as smart as I thought? [The answer echoed through heat's haze] No New obsessions - people don't work out. [Trust instead the windswept air, it's pillowed pause, peaks in the distance.] ("Under the Mountains") A striking image - two horns - strung up between or gripped within. Strung up your features [which side would I recall? which angle?] My rhythm of living [of thinking] Was that of the life distilled in a day So what should I recall? [The sun stretched me out one day and poked my tiny heart] But to even think of letting my heart, a-flutter, Come to rest on this stone, spread out... [Slowed by the movement of the sun's blaze] What is it I even know of exhaustion? Of being compelled? What do I know of pressure? The pressure to cave? What do I even know of pressure? ("Harmony" [On the beach]) [Inside. Cool down.] Everything in balance. Everything in line. Isn't it something? Isn't it great? [To be pulled into the same exertions] The point between your blades Trace your outline These walls can talk, they catch on quick. [Half of your body, baked. The other half, buried.] Harmony on the beach. Melody and me made sleep on the beach. ("The Laundry Kept Me In") Account for the stages which [my form] melts at [Candlelight, and friendly] A deck of cards, pale sky, for the kind push I'd walk out Made sure I could rifle through before I dared to open my mouth Made sure I could be amusing before I dared [to be precise]. [The tools couldn't swing straight enough to keep my spine in line] [Drifting space] Conversations shift, Daylight changed The laundry kept me in. ("Sun Drags Me Out") The sun drags me out one day, In a passive state. [Looked to the left and right] Nearby passer's face. Sunlight, warmth, [nostalgia], sunlight, heat. [The sun speaks] A voice in my ear says, "Your hard work is about to pay off." A voice in my ear says, "You don't work hard." A voice in my ear says, "Your dreams are about to come true, keep your dreams burning forever." And the question, "Was it worth it?" A voice in my ear says, "You'll have plenty of friends when you need them." "Those close to you - love them, trust them." The sun drags me out one day to remind me - "Andy, you've been quiet for too long. You've pushed all your friends away." I've been strong, but I'm not strong anymore. I've been capable, but I can't anymore. The sun drags me out one day. [Stretched out, under furnace skies, in a passive state.] As a reminder: From now on - all smiles.