AS (20 Nov.1950 / Yerevan, Armenia)

On The Inside (To Evan Dando)

This is the place where I lose face
This is the dark where watchdogs bark
This is my man who makes a game plan
This is my buy before I curl up and die.
That is my soul stuck into the black hole
That is my dark star, uninhabited and far
That is my tour guide with whom I'm on a joyride
Those are my corporal shards, the faded postcards.
I am back where I first came from, and I don't mind.
After I re-realize that I have bought it, I see the light.
My imaginary friend don't have me in his sights: he is blind.
I hear the soundless footsteps of my shadow
Echoing stubbornly on the inside of the dying night.

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