every piece is a reflection.

Art is a reflection of the Self,

the only true remembrance of

what is, what was.

.

I keep on falling towards Epitome,

keep on falling down. I don’t know.

There needs to be dull mundanity,

discipline. Slow and melancholic,

with a walkway twisting into a

funny head. There is not much time,

not to perform. Heed the warnings

of the clashing steel and fiery sun,

my patient child. You need the

serene hours, the warm palisade.

You will be vomiting syringes soon,

wearing a suit. Presence, with no sugar.

The odyssey of observation, looking

at people looking at people. Kissing

foreheads. Drinking honey.

Accepting vulnerability (it is what it is)

and listening to the words. There is no

Being. Come forth, march home. Do.

Be gracious in your embrace and look.

I don’t know what forever is but hold

your hands together, for god’s sake.

In motion, spitting, staring.

.

I need to be alone. I want to sit

on my chair and be alone. I need time to think.