You will finish
And I will finish
And this matter will not matter anymore.

I am curious about the rise and fall of ridges.
How deep, how high are their troughs and crests?
I wonder what you see.
I see bridges. Bridge between skin glass subject.
I see barriers but I don't see what you see.
I don't see the light like you do
only what is lighted by it
and darkened
because light creates shadow.
The shade is a barricade between points of view.

I don't feel, I see
that the hues are flat where there are no curves
But the light softens these surfaces.
You feel light. I see it in the way sunlight dances
Round the hairs on your skin.
You are sculpted,
carved like the canyon.
I wonder what rivers have eroded you
And what light enlightens those chasms.

Do you feel as I see it?
You are sliver lined.

Feeling like garbage. Like left over
Like do whatever you want
Wherever
whatever.
Have you felt tar in your core before?
Thick gobs of oil making things sluggish,
Clogging air holes.
A rotting center churning rotten thoughts, rotten feelings.
Some fresh air and space helps feel better.
Some time.
I guess rotting things go back to the Earth in time.
Garbage waits.