and after the before and above the around these is an answer pulsing in the dark, squealing in the mist, twisting in my musky residue of soul. there is soul and there is heart and beyond that everything seems to be illusion. the strange displays illuminating the back and forefront of my mind.

turns out we came with more than our parts. turns out our parts don’t click when they set in to our bones. turns out the turn out for those awake versus those still asleep in the midafternoon sun is shocking and splintering. turns out nothing quite turns out, just develops black and white and rainbow. 

within the wilting and outside the cracking crinkles of the motivated moon. 

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