a moment of dark respect and recourse. a trilling denouncement, a dubbing of voices, triumphant minorities. the correctness has been able to present itself over and amongst the flora and fauna of the deceased. voyagers. the decrepit designs, in the rain, leak up the floor, creep up the walls, slide down onto the ceilings. everything is happening in reverse. everything is happening. always there, never here. recognition has overcome us. a technology that claims to be an option for future productivity. consumptive sponsorship. yes, i get it. you have it all. of course, it is so very easy to see. the creaking in my ears, in my failing seat. it cannot do a thing but that. fowls roam in my vision at night, in the fenced lawns of my mind, squawking and guffawing at each other heartily and steadily. your lyrics cannot drive forth with any deeper contestual remarks. a mis-reading of the rules (no, a complete mis-seeing) has rendered me ineligible, as always. i never could win a thing anyhow. whenever i'm alone with you: home, whole, indeed. To be young and fun again, indeed. listen to the pain in their voices and tell me it is not real. it is unreal. when i go across the divides, i see the pages open up before my nose. orchestrated and finite it has all become. it moves like a sloth across our chain of vision. so slowly that algae grows on our backs. an epidermis made of lichen: protect me, protect us all.
a rainy day soundtrack from an Austinite in the library, with coffee, browsing next year's mayhem medical school schedule. and all is well. all is well now. did i forget to link this lemon-cutting portrait of me by Liz? well, there it is.