Justin, listen to your heart, and listen to your mind, and your soul, your essence. Justin, listen. Listen to the voices, listen to what they say, hear what it is they are telling you, each saying to you, and listen. Listen when one says there is no room for rejection, listen when another says to you the things yet another already knows and by knowing just the knowledge of it, what it the first is saying is said without breaking the silence, without interrupting the next voice calling to you, this one pleading the words yet another already knows and has plead too much like the first and second and third and so on and so on the fifth as well to the silent slow nods of voice-head affirmation rooted all over the body and in the heart center and down the darkened slopes of eyes that listen so much to what they see yet listen not to the stacking dimensions over multiplying [illegible] to just follow your fucking self united & whole together listening.
Justin, listen to the quiet voices too, the ones afraid to be actually heard, the voices just as true yet nearly not as loud but definitely equally influential if not more so because their voice carries endurance and preservation from never physically enacting the words and never hearing their voice vibrate and never feeling their message see the heart or the mind or whatever it is that justin listens to what is it what is it what will he listen to maybe all he needs is just the quietness, or maybe the disruption or maybe a bolt of lightning can you believe they thought electric shock therapy was for him, for us? Listen. Listen to the other eyes and their other expressions you read people well don’t you you read people really well it’s obvious what they’re saying it’s obvious what their expressing you to listen to and what their showing you with the anti-magnet briefly attracted but pulled away eyes with a quiet but expressed knowledge of something obvious, something I should know and I do but I just don’t listen, Justin listen.
And listen to the lessons of your past but listen too to the voices turning away from it some in self-mutilation to change the truth and others sleeptalking and lucidly whispering lies of another something else and some just washing their sounds down with thought of tears others to the thought of those voices who relish in the wet pain & can’t seem to just hear the sighs of letting go all around and up & down his body and essence to Justin learn just learn please will you just take what was there and acknowledge most of what you thought was there was just that–thought–voices in such number massing against and with and forward backward and diagonally disconnected but obviously forged and inseparable like the simultaneous sounds of all of us wanting to be heard by the great sum of Justin himself who gets control who or what when is it my turn and my turn.