Falling in love with an ancient building?
Why?
Words?
Some words?
Have not been spoken?
Yet?
Feelings?
Some feelings?
Have not been discovered?
Truly?
There’s something with this building that touches a very prehistoric part of you?
An untamed idea says good morning?
… out wilding?
… back wilder?
Don’t know how to ABC this?
Don’t have the power?
To say:
N
O
?
Confusion?
Panic?
Philophobia?
It dances on your nerves?
Not gently?
With high heel shoes?
Pressing hard to hurt you?
Pressing notes to wake you?
Presstitute?
This rhythm is older than anything you know?
You can’t explain how but you know it?
It’s built in your genes?
It’s coded to your existence?
This building is a language that you forgot to speak when you were born?
A mother tongue?
No?
Best friend’s slang?
No?
It’s telepathic?
It has the power to send you to the end of the Milky Way and pull you back to your boring soup/salad 9/5 table in milliseconds?
Dancing on your table?
Using an everyday-shoes-language with the building doesn’t work?
Shouting at it?
No?
Pushing it? Kicking it? Kissing it? Bribing it? Wearing it?
No?
It knows you better than you do?
Was here before you?
Light-years before you?
Light-years before you?
You are this building now?
It’s you?
The real you that you have never met?
Heartbreakingly beautiful?
?
?
?
What to do with it?
Sing it?
Without your words?
With her everyfuckingwhereness?
In an unborn you?