I call this blood You call that bird feather They are feather They are bleeding bird a blood-colored bird red and falling full of readiness as anything falling Feather blood bird bird Feather blood blood bird Feather Death is never obvious so a bird can also fly down and a catheter bleeds for life Death is never obvious: feather feather and feather.
monster Ness is a lake. The frightening kind of lake itself.
emptiness is more (things) than what an empty place or an empty cocholate box, one heart on an autopsy table or all the theories of Walter J. Ong is. Are
you seeing it properly? Monstrosity is another thing(s).
clean out all the shadows of this view I want the memory to be as noon as any instant One well-speaking wind to flee roads and scars for the viewing to protect in silence the moment from what's not Greenwich of its place There, right there, where only lackness is absent.
Better than what I got there is every single thing or thought that I can from here touch or recall right now with a no other way kind of freedom called Memory. You know what I mean.
When you touch a thing only for the reason you want to retouch a whole situation metonymicly, when you want to remember a moment only to remind you that that moment happend and you find yourself around old calenders where the workdays do not match your current deadlines, it's memory I know you know what I'm trying to say right now. Again.
Here I say what I need from you There needed._What I needed there, right there, where all leaves past and past is awkardly white finally _From you. right here again for the last time because this time I have already said what I needed to say. To you.