I’m not a writer who wants to say what shouldn’t be spoken
I’m a writer who wants to camouflage the door so it looks like everything else
Who wants to let the things that can only be felt, be felt
Who wants to let the things that it takes a lifetime to see, just take a fucken lifetime, you know
There is a veil
There is a mist
There is a curtain
There is a door
That cannot be seen by looking directly
That cannot be named, ‘coz it hasn’t got one
And it’s not cool to try
Do you know what I’m saying?
Do you feel it too?
There is the way that you are
When no-one is looking.
And no-one has ever seen that
Not even you
Do you hear me?