became sick of words again and thought with who we know they were only ever good for re-gesturing the motion that has no end with a see-through body and neural bits spoiled with a frantic hope mostly splattered forth in front of other see-through neural bits besides, we see right through undeserving shapes of little mirror maze what gloom what rage or other thing and back to this and that afforded luxury like reassurance and a clownish dignity
ah, I remember you, glow. but everything shaped somehow slipped away. I would extend memory into recital, to comfort the others but I myself had emptied. if you recited to me i wouldn't know if it had occurred or if it was just another story I half-listen like a dream worth seashells or some softened pebbles
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