my tongue is a stranger in the wonderland of consolation.
i have knowledge when it comes to complexity, but yet i am still ignorant in the subject of comforting advice and soothing words that wash away the wounds that the world has marked you with.
i don't know verbal solace, but i have a first aid kit and i know how to lend a ear.
so, when the 1920 blues collides with your body - i will be there to tenderly listen to your guitar weep. i will let your robert johnson melodic melancholy float through my ossicles. and if your string snaps - i will build you another from the shabby wooden walls of my home.
you can always melt your despair into tears and i will morph them into an oasis. i will hold onto your bones when they split and i will cradle your heart when it sinks and when your body is arid - i will take hold of the marmalade sun and i will place him in a long glass for you to drink. and i will bring back some moon biscuits and you can dip them in your drink. and i will remove neptune's gravitational choke away from you so that you can finally see that the world is not swathed in blue.
i may not be the medicine that your doctor prescribes, but i will listen and i will feel and i will try to be there, even when i am not.
