where do i place these limbs?

how did i become a biped,

could’ve been plant should’ve been tree with these tendrils on

would’ve been a concrete wall at the back of a concert theatre

these skin; how do they look so soft tender on others

and i feel only of bark coat on my torso / fat thighs

all these people and all their legs with their gaits speaks of the weather

the hues of their springs

so i live absolve of my light to see it in others

to see their opaque walls

to see their stomachs clench sour in their conflict; disparage of their crass world and the inner mirror

but at the edge of one’s distant land often a fast autmobile brings us back to the land of promiscuous features which we once again trample on such crass acts

and these crafts are often, quick music and people in the fast. then i live again.