411

There are no answers, only words. So perhaps I should make some of my own words to make the puzzle form easier.

I would write to make a point to people. I would write to reach out. I would write to feel closer to those not by my side. Now, all I can write for is me, and re-live my stories in tales. I can feel the beats of music and the soothe soothe soothe. I can feel my footsteps forming second sounds and second grooves in the floor. I listen to the tales of others and hear their bodies roar. 

I watch and cross the bridges, and see all gleam by. I see the pathways onwards and remember which way to move. I see the movements loosen and I begin to let go. Boring heavy over, for now I am less slow. 

We don't like to hear the words no. 

Some albums are relentless. Some albums know how to let go. The familiar. The out there. The trouble. The bang bang bang boosh barr clanky panorama tin foil explosion of life. Sailing worlds. Islands in winds. In breeze. In stars. In men in black marbles (watch the film). 

I feel sad I've lost her. I feel sad I lost you. Self journeys are hard to find, but they are there all along. Who wants to explore me? I do.