it's still not quite the same

so as work begins i find

myself with even less time &

this means it will become

more uncommon to catch me

posting on this.

listen to synth trifle up (&

down) the stairs. let it rise, like

a depressed (concave) heart &

fall, as does the lining of

a trampoline. like me (that of a

robot) there are synthetics &

metals of a retired alchemist

surrounding a set of

muscle. it's not the way it

used to be (things were calculated

& finite), rather they pliable &

affable. the limited became infinite

& the numerous, unquantifiable. we all

are composite in the cracks

that line the attic walls (behind & under the

nails jutting from the ceiling). but remember

as the echo of the hissing collapses

under the asbestos & around

a lengthy oscillation. this, surrounded completely

by a supercomputer with precision &

calculation. the light ceases, the beat rolled

down the folding stairs.

(musings about drake's "you know, you know")

july, july!

cannot wait

for june to end. boy do things

go: they are unstoppable

& boy do they

pick up as they

catch the draft

beneath their wings.

dipping & eluding

the good (& bad). the crevices

explored are the

just cause of

ebullience in the air. at least

we can see (with the

assistance of a microscope)

the paw-prints of

post-marks &

wishing wells. things

go. they go far &

expand from the summer's

unrelenting & wistful

heat. they (with time) become

deft, basking in the

breeze (of a passing

garbage truck) uptown.

eventually we all find ourselves

brushing a group of pigeons

from their zone (predetermined

by the food vendors in the

proximity). we don't always mean to

but the birds are often

cumbersome & serve the

purpose of a street cone. flags down,

wings up, & the echo of

a nearby gunshot falls calmly on the

landing pads of chewed

ears.

watch

as the

four legged spider

performs the saddest

show i've ever seen.

try to crawl but

simply

cannot. been gone

for a little while but

working on it.

like sand

lifted by the wind

& taken wherever;

the garden, the

stratosphere. square one.

yes, we're back. we'll be here for

a long while. plant my feet &

watch the concrete

harden around them. i know

this is a step backwards

but this seems like nothing

less than

necessary.

new tablet, lost time

got a drawing tablet, this is the first piece of crap i produced, dedicated to my homies, jan & vinny.

try tearing paper into perfect squares, it will cut your fingers

synthesize me

a love song, miss. i want

to be

back on the road.

get the bass

in sync with the

blinkers & send me somewhere

new like

CO or AZ. let the roads

be my web &

cradle me in cold front.

baby, i want you, i want

you.

can't you hear me barreling down

the road? i'm lost, i am lost like

a reindeer strayed

from the herd.

sometimes things are too

disorganized to trust in. good

friends & time are all

you need. music helps too

& that's okay. i think bass &

treble are the neosporin of

serious problems & in between

an ampersand sandwich, so that must be

true. i miss living in wholes (clearly

this is the case because i'm writing

halfway normal.

"if you're partial to the night sky

if you're vaguely attracted to rooftops

hannah takes the stairs

cause' she can't tell it's a winding spiral case

is she outside-in?

or inside-out?"

[freelance whales] "hannah"

"insomnia" [rynn williams]

this is how i feel now & everyday

"dear lord jesus,

my eyes won't close

& my hands won't clap

& my hair won't grow

i'm so lonely

my mind is gonna go

if i don't find me a friend in the snow

you've taken more than i owe.

i want from no one

what i need from you

i've got family, they sing through the fun

they've got a son too spineless

scared now to run.

say you love me & show me some fin

tell me life don't weigh a goddamn ton

i swear,

my back is just a drum"

-hair don't grow [annuals]

maps

& atlases

"dancing old linen
& crooked eye hole cuts
we walked in steps of math
& now in closet candlelight
writing songs for ghosts to haunt to"