-punctuation be punctual. take this comma for instance, insisting an instant of air instantly...
though my arm is sore from blood offerings to the asphalt, bitch cop with a pressure point and a pension plan, there's another tomorrow, the arm fair still flailing; this clause is lost to me.
more and more i view omnipresence as a very reasonable way to impossibly live:
moneen'n it up tomorrow, a timeless dimension, a timely dementia. sleeping derangements, estrangements contained. and in a counter-clockwisdom, how's this for a shout-out to shout about:
"a million times a million times a million, put that on a table and count to it on the fingers that touch, the toes that wrestle~"
"not with toes but with minds and with eyes, the looks that kill and thrill the worst of us, half-closed, tight-lipped, I know who you'll be thinking of."
"not a who, a what where when whichever direction i'm facing, i'm faced with you. jump onto the bed dear, i'll put aside this book i wasn't reading, not really anyway, and we can mastermind and outsource a crash course for anything but dummies, 'learning to love something lovely for dummies'"
"I'm leaving my mark here, there and everywhere and I'm sorry if I'm taking awhile, but we can visit venice in the backseat later, je m'excuse mais ton cerveau est plus vite que le mien a cette heure."
"a cette huere? specifically?"
"oui. I'll remind your mind that I'm the one who finds lost glasses & wallets on a weekly basis, let's not forget, and am also the one who keeps engines running smoothly with my elephant-memory, knowing all the details that are important to the task at hand"
"je me suviens everything that has stayed the same, brain-drained, ten thousand bus trips to take me back to where i'm starting from, dumb-drummed beats meet my fingers waving you gently off to sleep, an invisible sheet shook, dust and just, more dust for us."
at which point a priori in retrograde
yes, but, i don't know. yes. tentative steps, there are many ways to move through a spider's web. fewer safe, though. together and never in very pressurized liquid manners, or where are mine? excuse me, i'm not through being inane, things came, leaving. a bullet thrown for four hundred thousand made and me pounding the glass too hard with my fists too soft.
criminally, christian
more and more i view omnipresence as a very reasonable way to impossibly live:
moneen'n it up tomorrow, a timeless dimension, a timely dementia. sleeping derangements, estrangements contained. and in a counter-clockwisdom, how's this for a shout-out to shout about:
"a million times a million times a million, put that on a table and count to it on the fingers that touch, the toes that wrestle~"
"not with toes but with minds and with eyes, the looks that kill and thrill the worst of us, half-closed, tight-lipped, I know who you'll be thinking of."
"not a who, a what where when whichever direction i'm facing, i'm faced with you. jump onto the bed dear, i'll put aside this book i wasn't reading, not really anyway, and we can mastermind and outsource a crash course for anything but dummies, 'learning to love something lovely for dummies'"
"I'm leaving my mark here, there and everywhere and I'm sorry if I'm taking awhile, but we can visit venice in the backseat later, je m'excuse mais ton cerveau est plus vite que le mien a cette heure."
"a cette huere? specifically?"
"oui. I'll remind your mind that I'm the one who finds lost glasses & wallets on a weekly basis, let's not forget, and am also the one who keeps engines running smoothly with my elephant-memory, knowing all the details that are important to the task at hand"
"je me suviens everything that has stayed the same, brain-drained, ten thousand bus trips to take me back to where i'm starting from, dumb-drummed beats meet my fingers waving you gently off to sleep, an invisible sheet shook, dust and just, more dust for us."
at which point a priori in retrograde
yes, but, i don't know. yes. tentative steps, there are many ways to move through a spider's web. fewer safe, though. together and never in very pressurized liquid manners, or where are mine? excuse me, i'm not through being inane, things came, leaving. a bullet thrown for four hundred thousand made and me pounding the glass too hard with my fists too soft.
criminally, christian