2.13

My heart is full for them. Heavy holden chestsink

deep balloons and realizes my

body. Oddly faced and improvident

positioned, a harpchord strungby

violent men. A violet softsung

lightrode wave against your fore

head brushes paint.

I DONT KNOWWHAT TO THINK ABOUT YOU

and it’s fine if i do. if i do what i do, i’ll sink, you know, too.

and if i do what i’ve done, well i won’t. but if i

am what i’ve sung and am what i’ve done but

one made of matter dispersed since

its tidal sprays and whispy always.

if friends can mindsail tightrope

, saltspraAAAYYYYyyy away

what can i say?

I’m dead and you’re dead and

you’re dead too. I found out today, thought might not

I say until

you brought on yours. my hold-on doors are no good for

a ship

that’s tilt sideways causes

me slip.

And OOPS you might say, in

a sad, dead ‘ready way.

and WOAH, FUCK you might shout,

but yeah, probably not.