A man reviewing how to position his body like a dead squirrel sees the ships and bonds scream from him. The lights at the river abandon the river. The men come to shore and take away the old-looking things.
We are patios upon patios, endless. The very (end) is a broken public space that I see you in. You are all of you like what an old man does before sleeping or dying. Or what I can only hope for. You are an all of you and I am reviewing a Diet Coke. I shine it and then cage it because I have to do something with this mouth right now when you are an all of you and I.
These many old threads. My sweat and skin. I am sorry. Although, this isn’t about sorry. It’s more of an asking skin and some blood. It’s ordering the right amount of food for the right amount of people. I want to fling hams off tall buildings to waiting beasts. I want to be the sheets and also between them.
In the following period, we will be represented by symbols on grass. Like an upright game of dominoes. Bless your heart, you’re going. The yellow on the road means it is a road forever. It means don’t look at the sunset, it mimics it. On the other hand, there is navigation and corrections.
A hard man sitting upright, surveying ripples of metal, searching traffic for whatever he has pulled in his. The Chevys of our senses. The daily download surrounding this face. The you all of you. The distance between ports, something called kin. Sometimes water is several mountains worth. The air right now reminds me of accidentally clicking on something dead.