it
now. it asserts itself. makes itself known. rises from a vague landscape where,
starts slow.
what seems like moments ago, there was only tanned and tender skin.
first, a trickle of
we know its not fair, of course we do, how life
a thing, drip drip dripping
insists on malicious amalgamation of the blameless bright beautiful but
slipshod slipping in and out of
leaves us. we drift aimlessly, searching equally so for
schisms in the essence of a being.
a point. no signal, just noise. like static
like an idea in the back of your head,
but meta. we cut a crashing hiss
scritch scratching around, abound for parts afar and away
through days they never got to
chitter chattering all day, grabbing your tongue, taking your say.
taste. we try to hurry
then, just like that idea, there it stays. festering and flayed,
nowhere, without you. our
invisibly inviable too. just like you. i hate it but it's true.
attempt at
as we mourn the arrival of another morning, alas, it becomes less metaphorical,
growing.