The Most Beautiful Bitter Fruit - La Dispute

After sundown, before sleeping, I am the worst of me.

I am a mess of these

Old themes and the murmur of half-dreams whisper seductively and

Stage scenes.

It’s fear fiction, these visions, caught somewhere between delusion and

prophesy.

What I haven’t done, what I’ve wanted to, and what I fear you have

Becomes reality here.

Bright lights in the young night keep to the beat.

A classic party scene, crowded and interesting.

No love, no life, no history.

Just touch, just chemistry, just

A roaring undercurrent simple and sensory.

Young bodies, warm skin, perfect symmetry and

It’s a moment, harmless.

It’s energy.

It’s like medicine,

It’s self-discovery.

See, all the secrets I keep, why are they secrets?

No pauses, not a second guess.

First a swaying then a stumble then a swagger.

They’re just movements towards feeling.

It doesn’t matter

Neither hesitates to carry on a kind of energy,

Sweat and block out everything to

Find every aperture and compel the animal parts.

Fan flames, taste fruit, taste bitter fruit.

Just trying to learn how all the wires in the body work.

Just trying to feel it out, it’s like medicine.

Trap the healing in whatever bed they end up in.

And when the feeling hits.

And in that moment sparks and harps play out

A sweeping melody through fog and fantasy

And in that moment there’s an honesty instinctive and pure but

It departs like it came, rapid and bearing no more

Than fleeting ecstasy of natural harmony.

They fear the notes being played and try to sing along.

Don’t be ashamed, be free to the feeling.

Don’t be ashamed, keep feeling.

But find it: a body that makes sense.

I’ve felt it.