and then part of me says "stop"
to the part that wants to move,
making classic dialogue like movies from the 40's
(when romance was well-timed one-liners).

but my matter stops, replies:
"find some place to get lost,
like that one song that you once loved
because nothing comes without going,
and everything pulls and pushes without slowing,
moving, moving, moving."

and it's like this:
when you tear away a layer of skin,
there's nothing revelatory about it;
only more layers, more skin.