I travel by moonlight to outsmart the sun and lose my way with a pointless map. Two seasons of stutter steps and switchbacks bring me to the end without a clean finish. I toss aside coordinates to orbit a dying star.

      The tempo changes and the accent shifts.Words are repeated in the round.Mindfulness resides in each interruption.To authenticity we are bound.

      A misshapen heart I hide the indentation     August left its mark  

It's all about the accumulation of layers. Skin's got to be thick, an impenetrable defense against barb and sleight. The pressure to fit and flow and not impede the process is immense. Check the valve that regulates patience. Toughness is valued. Success is expected. The most vicious of fights rages on in the head. Calibrate…

    attention somehow hauntedsuspicion similarly dividedseparate type of conversationstir idle thought until it breaks down into chunkscompose a close call

I've got rods and cones and a little something extra for your trouble. It's habit to leave out bait, set the trap. I can see your fear squirm to the surface. That's fine. You are certainly not the first. Can't say you'll be the last. We have time for a chat–maybe argue the usage of…

  my mind wanders and when it wanders i let it wander i don't rein it in i hold on and go it's a fixation and it's fun then i taste the blood and honey of infinityi feel the cruel tease of forever on my skini want to stay in that tiny slice of awarenessspacious…

  Home is just a state of mind.{ a kettle of disparate theories on how to live the dream }{ a receptacle of freethought locked up and out of reach }Home resides outside of time.

  It is not a deformity.No disability, this.My limbs are invisible.But Hey!LOOK!I have a spine!A breadbasket, too.The knob?It was a crutch.A poor excuse.A needy maw that wanted more.Greedy thing had to be fed constantly.I am better off without my head.All that gray matter got in the way, anyway.There is ample topography on my torso to…

  light crawls around cornersand bumps into its own shadowcopper stretches and vibratesstrands snap and hum and writhe on the groundwhat a way we have with words an image is left to your good sensetucked away in the cradle where it belongs