i wonder if i should embrace the life expectancy of a snail slime-ing away
along the sidewalk,
it's sanctity already ruined,
it's guts spilled out in a portentous manner,
showing all what it once was
and all what will inevitably happen,
in an odd manner
somehow
filling in the void of this world
by allowing the stitch of the patterns stay put.
but i digress.
there ought to be much more.