Aug. 27, 3:40 pm

eaten below our prime value, we are confused and below ourselves. Try to buy something that relates to your status and position or "nar." The buckets come down in rain. They prepare ourselves to be mobile, or to care the chief concerns above & beyond your shoulders. Attractive, at best, but for now not repellant enough. I wonder how I could spell you if I tried. Yes, I am the only weirdo who does this kind of thing, going around and checking the windows because it could be raining in. The spoon lies forlornly on the windowsill, its face buried with sorrow. Your only remnant. A human attempt at transformation. A large group of them travelling together: a possibility of people. The neighbor's angry words toward his cat, Joe Cocker, sheeting or patterning rain is all that goes into the ears of this tired, tired body. I am all worn out of knees.

2:43 am

                                                                      or another, similar time
If sadness is a poem, then what is prose?

And when you change in these smallest of increments over eight or so years, do you become more someone else or more yourself?

Black and blue stomach from where the steering committee barged in.