shh shh shhut the fuck up.
nothing’s happening, and i’m alright with that. pooling in a knot of sweaty summer anxiety and everything coming out my head’s like syrup but here’s a blanket see; a cooling gauze settles unassumingly over things.
eases into a waltzing dream, half remembered, sketched out, somnambulant. a kindof interstitial haze. the whole thing a lovely disjointed bardo flow.
a foggy puff of glasstone and hum/haw.
a panoply of botany and biology.
a run-out groove clickclack.
shh shh shhut the fuck up.
nothing’s happening, and i’m alright with that. cottonbrained, fuzzy, barely-there. i’m at one with the sighing soft crackle like an absent friend / a dying fire. post-something liminal waking. that bleary daydream still clinging wet to face.
a thrum and hoom s’like an instruction, an urge to be, elsewhere. to just blip out blip in not getting beyond just being a goddam thing.
peeling off now from teeshirt to skinshirt.
down beyond corpuscle and muscle memory.
to the good ooze.
