Unkempt, and with a froth, we watch our letters tumble down in flows, streaming in brooks and eddies down the mountain’s sides. At first cool and clear, the descent leaves them murky and unfathomably chained in unnatural warmth, they spurn themselves and forget those old sentences, once elevated, now phrasing into gibberish and then: Here comes the sea!

Daffodil, i have written. Some texts owe their creations to me, only. I am a partial, temporary. Friends and families do not know. I slide and blur into the foreground, slink into the background.Most do not notice if i am gone, others do not wonder.

I have earned a word. I have liked the sound.

Sometimes there is a dehydration in the head. Soul is a tired word, at least for today. SO Sometimes there is a dehydration in the head. Some people are young once, and they do not know what to do and they do not like it, and the label in fleeting moments is ‘suicidal’ even though they may never write the note.

Other people are young twice. They eat candy bars for dinner, the second time.

I eat two candy bars for dinner, even though i am in my definite thirties. I am unbelievably tired, 5:42 PM, north-eastern Florida.

I am wiser and it is a shame. There was a time when i was bright but naive and very quiet but not too awkward, and i could believe that i was in Love love with someone i had nothing in common with, and we would lay on the top of a car way out in the rurals, and there were stars falling, like meteors.This is a clue to my mood.

I Tune To The News.

Pronounce The Vowel, Colonel Mustard.

I Met A Demon, Once. It Saw Me From The Ferris Wheel.

Infinity, This Is A Non-Smoking Room.

Sorries!