it's dark and rustling sounds are coming out from the brush I say hello, no response, the little creatures want to consume me and whatever stupid things I struggled to put together in my hands
put myself out where
ami am holding something warm for you for when i see you again
tall and empty building flute
reconciliation dream but running out of people so the mind just invents like I imagined who my thief was who took such good care and was a kindhearted anarchist in the end
certain flowers turn to mush if they leave, look at us
felt a briefest familiar spark
an allegory of an incongruence of negatives and positives how everything seemed configured in a way to be a gridlock