Hand

A man named Stuck N. Thawax is standing inside the continuous skin of gold leaf and some sort of bizarre self knowledge. Something isn’t the real thing here. Wax is blurred with the dragging of feet.

This cigarette has a taste that matches well with panic and well chewed dental floss, both really terrific things to taste on the dryest and hottest of afternoons. There is no hand wringing when the water has been used…the days when you must reuse the water..or have no water..there won’t be vigils of people wringing their hands. They will begin the self slaughtering that panic feels like after you get used to the foul taste of self inflicted circumstance. Well don’t panic now.

Some days it’s easy to see how you might have more than you need. Too many shoes, to many concussions. Life is at it’s most unmanageable when you decide to make choices that leave you concussed.

The fire is bringing the water inside us to a boil. Something is being prepared and it is something we should eat super fast. Or let age, super slow. We are not concussed today.

What is both fast moving and gentle if not the fire of the spirit. The animal and it’s doppleganger. I can see the animal sharpen it’s sight on a rock covered in ants and spilled pie filling. What is both fast moving and gentle if not the mind when in fascination.

Mmmmmm..watching you tho..

Music with mallets and tap shoes versus the argument of space travel. I know next to nothing about anything. Cooking fruit into fire sauces is a generational responsibility. This I know.

The suitcase will be empty soon..and placed in the closet. The door inside has a nice paint job and the paint is a hue that has​ several names and one feeling. All the range of color has all the range of experience and that is why some colors can be vile and irresponsible. The colors we chose are more energetic.

We are crazy and beloved. We are second skin creatures with a primal attachment to the bees and the pollination..we are birds inside the balloon careening toward the light. One long needle. One bird filled balloon. We are listening to the buzz of bees.

Nothing is more pure than a well developed hive and eager population. I think everything teaches and nothing isn’t even a real thing. Having nothing is a false term. Conciousness is something that we owe everything we are to. Nothing is for the liars and selfish. They have everything and say they have nothing. The floor will fall away from each of us for good without a well oiled practice in gratitude.

“They wouldn’t bow their head and with eyes ablaze command a sense of unity, so they rode swords drawn demanding loyalty. They traded responsibilities​ with everyone they met.”— — -Moses in the Wild

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