A stone polygon sat in a moss forest. It was built from rounded rocks and glued like the fences that still tried to border the outgrown farmland. It rose into the thick morning that would not stop painting dew onto the eyes to make these visions more difficult to remember. The formation was covered in several dozen blankets that were woolen and ( Read more... )

"my most recent left-right brain argument"/ the awkward transition of weaning myself off of you, hearing your voice brings me crashing down. The crusade against my sanity

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I bit a hole into the center of a fresh green leaf and looked through it at all the scenery. It was very blue in particular what the peephole wanted to catch. Something was wrong in the usual landscape one day but I couldn't tell what it was for a while. Then I looked up and there were several rollercoasters directly above me, each seat piled with ( Read more... )

There was some kind of end war between the east coast & Europe, no not colonial yet one with jungles and rifles, as if the world had not collapsed backwards but instead some parts had always stayed there. Alex & I hid in white marble from giants in dark beards. It was a house but also a monument, as if picked to be immortal. The assassin found us ( Read more... )

Afterward I didn’t drink anymore from the well of vague sounds, the pitched squeals of kids and the occasional bass of parents, the vague sounds of the sky having a string of parties. I followed the green subway tracks past miles of shops and restaurants. Each place was just a cube, persons in each making their world in the dust that covered the ( Read more... )

it's repetitious. I can't figure out how to let go, it's repetitious, I tried to find a way

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Time’s inhaling its own air. It’s hard to imagine how it used to play slower. When I blew bubbles I’d see their whole lives go frail, thick greens and blues to grey and black holes. When they hit the wooden floor the sound punishes you for listening carefully.
It’s hard to picture the imminence of disassembly.

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It was a contagious sort of dark that flicked with the mountains making triangles on the road, but the dark caught each of them until the triangles were gone and there was only dark. The patterns played the seats, turning them on and off and we remembered when the car was new over a decade ago; the washed chemicals smelled so fresh we didn’t know ( Read more... )

IN PARTICULAR / "lying on my back, I heard music. Felt unsure and catastrophic.. Had

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