A face always before me, a face in the air,
Unmoving in my moving, an eternal stare.
I hate that forgetting everything is easy,
Far and away too easy to miss what is there.
What has happened to us? Nothing. It is only
What is always not happening that makes us care.
Shoegazing? This is doom-howling berzerker hordes
Wielding death-lightning, slaying all from who knows where.
Because the staring back is never bargained for
And finds you, reveals you totally unaware.
Because the way up and the way down are the same,
A single winding ladder way beyond repair.
Feeling dark down a humming Lynchian hallway,
Nicola walks without hope and without despair.
p.s. an uncanny experience: remembering having written this after finding Scott's post on The Hum, like the lines were not written until now, could only appear belatedly early, as conjured by a commentary, like in a lynchian plot loop.