(Untitled)

[memoryanddesire]

Mornings we (fall apart) walk blocks in a city spread-open behind every closed door. Get there. Get out. No. Movement across data-lines compounded by dripping candles and our own hubris-dreams.

Like waterfalls. Falling; kick dirt, kick against the pricks.

We're on the wall. My mind is made up but my body won't act without poison in the veins.

Comments

[nopointoforigin]

<3.