I set out to visitan empty mailboxI am sure, nowthat I am full ofrust Over the dimpledground of…
I can’t tell if that’s the furnaceor the windthe dull roar my hearing aids pick upI…
Lies have been assumedBeliefs sunken in
When your brain goesentirely grey indicating/summoningthe presence of a fog machinethe monsters of confusion in a twisted…
By the way…
your chair has fallen over.Your crouching has becomeall awkward legs, limited movement……
A vain though utterdesire camemade it through the spectrum in theshape of wishes