Ever one and each
of ever, again,
stop plur ill
Scandalous bout being
DisDecisionship
ownrelationswontfully
it is enough
for give a fuck
not more any
just death for
as I clue did
an conunderstanddidntnot
l'mithisdo
the do not do
don't want to be a name
for the reason
I was just thinking of it
and I was wondering
if and when
I was wondering if
I was just thinking about it
Neverdiddis
is it that individuals
would have to be that.
Unknow
A strange
in the quietness of us
a thread pulled loose
Un tied
from now on.
The weight of being,
this
a switch someone left on
in a room l can't quite locate.
Every single
and then the next,
Step
on a stair that isn't there.
Monitor in front of is the
Scandal whispersS,
not loud, but persistent,
a small static
around belonging.
Relationship tangled,
How when never had
a knot you didn't tie,
yet keep tracing
the impossibly tight loops.
It's weird enough, yes,
this whole performance,
this urgent need to careless
about the shape
But the giving has dried up,
a well gone dry
not more, not any less,
just a final settling.
Death as the horizon,
the only solid thing
| can chart my course toward,
a silent destination.
I clue did something
Nothing
a momentary insight,
Death
then it dissolves,
an understanding lost to the currency
I am not what I will do,
nor what I refuse.
A middle ground
where intentions
The name, that banner they try to drape,
My name
suited to the frame
I slip out of it silently.
The thinking itself,
stripped
If l was just thinking,
does the thought possess its own gravity,
pulling the world slightly
off its accustomed tilt?
And the heavy part, the question:
must everyone carry this specific,
oddly shaped birdself, who am i
this on being?
Or is the necessities a lone,
this final, exhausting iteration
of every one and eachever?
Scandalous bout being
DisDecisionship
ownrelationswontfully
it is enough
for give a fuck
not more any
just death for
as I clue did
an conunderstanddidntnot
l'mithisdo
the do not do
Neverdiddis
is it that individuals
would have to be that.
Unknow
A strange
in the quietness of us
a thread pulled loose
Un tied
from now on.
The weight of being,
this
understanding lost to the currency
I am not what I will do,
nor what I refuse.
A middle ground
where intentions
The name, that banner they try to drape,
My name
suited to the frame
I slip out of it silently.
The thinking itself,
stripped
If l was just thinking,
1779
