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infrared.these are the contrasts which will make it difficult for me to believe in anything that is said and will be said for it is not of sound mind but only of able body.my eyes have burnt up and exploded into embers that are floating to your house to knock on your door and tell you that it is time to die tonight. The sky will catch fire and then burn like a cold stone for hours until there is nothing left but the moon beneath our feet in the puddles after the hurricane.the only challenge which you are given is to control your feet before you walk off the edge.
free flowing chaosI see garage sales vending ghosts in yellowed squares and rectangles. Was always their presence so somber, or did their faces fall as the memories of their breaths crumbled with the setting sun? Sad, hollow, they know their forever future to be in 2-dimensional imagination, sold in a shoebox for buttons and dimes. Will I become a similar ghost, seeing through coffee stains and fingerprints, cracks across my face, whispering in chemicalled paper long after I have fallen down in ashes around the roseberry bushSometimes she dreams in paper and awakens with clean metallic cuts. As cranes flap through the tissue paper sky, snowflakes cut with dagger sharp and crooked edges like rotting teethinto my dry flaking skin, crawling and crumpling. I'll lick my fingers to bring them alive, and they hang limp and torn from the heavy moisture.What do you call the fish in your aquarium eyes in your mind so carefree, innocent, stupid and aliveThese textures are sharp and define