Art and writing from the June is coming sessions Part I (Your forced sadness burns in the belly)

When has there ever been anything less than too much of you.
I can’t walk when you’re holding my will, hammers on my ankles
When has there ever been too much fuel to burn when memory needs no time to learn.
I’ll always come back to before you, when I was looking for you
But it wasn’t you, because it wasn’t me
Two worlds decide a false truth based on imaginary maybes
Now we lose, we
Now it’s me, because it wasn’t you.


-BARTA