We're still hoping someone will see us.
Pretend ... whatever, maybe.
Like things we've done and let be.
Another chance for eulegy. Breathing in, breathing out with out assistance. Cut from your cloth so there's nothing left for a pair of trousers.
Coming up out of the sea.
Couldn't find my voice so we went shopping. Where everything's the same. There in a dingy tethered to saggy shiny myylar clouds. Buy one get one. Discontinued. As is. The knives were one aisle over. Memories big on things that never were. But I see you there destined in a darkling world, Like a sun that never wants photographed. We have left no focused circumstances as those, nothing so grand as a big red lollipop. It's just us, here alone like, letting ourselves be swallowed. Whole we slip away. While we kick our feet against the angels coming. Never to go against the rhythm; rythm is the everything
Rythm and the melody and the day and the night. We're all out of words now. Waiting a shipment but expecting it to blow in Mumbai, raining down verbs and nouns on children who never think twice on anything comes from above. Still
the brains to think diagnosis and cure but it's only just and nothing more but the world's own hard and futile place. Flowing like water out of ourselves. For the moon gets a do over while we stumble long down another street
What we do with what we’ve killed
4 hours ago