rhythm of remembered schism with dull refraina crushing blow, sireto your every Plan B(and to every nymph imaginedbeyond plan B.)what a night, what a night...my eyes seefar beyond a single plea.my kindness sees beyond nothingand thus, extends to that very pointto embrace all living things -all essential humans -to nothing.an embrace that ends in uncertainty,at best,and in complete unawareness,at mostand if i am to be the hostlet me sink a bit further firstand until you tell me why you're here,i throw confetti through your very soul.hitting the wall, it bounces away and formsa charming picture framewith no image.i see these quiet dances as a giftfrom god, if you will,or from me, most likely,which can be further reshaped forevermoreinto something slightly senilebut mostly juvenile and emptyto serve a greater purpose, which is to Be.and my tombstone will say:"i danced my life away with such notionsto an end that does not end.make yourself at home. welcome, welcome."
i'm it's try tiping againi'm it's try tiping again. here's my 3 cents worth: I hate You. bruschetta aur gratin, c'est mon dish favorite. collecteing new blubs from the colors I'm optionized, it's easy to gdo. i'll have a beastly empire in no time, just please don't be frightened. they weill devour you and i will keep your seoul in little jars for drinking when im thirsty and feelin gthin. i bet you were typical. well, i've got news for you. your hair will come off. your scalp, too. maybe an eyeball or two for the mantelpiece. cccccccaw.
all the times i chose to be boredand the ladies with their invisible hats ofseasoned disappointmentcrusty familiarityclick their tongues and shake their heads, and say,that's lifeand they look into the backdrop.and i look sideways, but you don'texist anymore.and the birds sway and danceone more time, accepting their fateto bird forever -to spiral into the sky, heaving and cawingand stretching the seasoned air into new(but similar)contortionsas practice flows off of them from all angles.and i look up at them again, but youdon't exist anymore.and great wooden boards creakfrom house to houseannouncing the breath of the universeand outside the mechanical breath chimes inlike someone who was late to a joke,and needs it to be repeatedrepeatedand it repeatsthe humming of the breathing repeatsand i look around me, but you don't exist...anymore.and the cliffs shall settlefor now, at least long enoughfor us to have somewhere to stand.and the ghosts of echoes in biological corridorsspark back to