need to break patterns,
dust,
fall through nebulas of flesh
and thought often enough
to touch the past with the future
like it matters or mattered
.
crash, burn, etc.
scatter in the wind.
imminent is the division
drifting in those same nebulas.

someone, anyone, paint them.
cage the visage to canvas or brick.

please.

what i need is to stop the dialogue
between myself and i.

need to break patterns.
need to sleep.