you are the little hill of hope that fills the fulfillment of being alive you are ready you are rolling you are rocking like the sound of the cerebral fluid of force. you are floating and flying and free and you are everything you could ever be just laced around the tree of time and the whistle of being alive being formed.

because everything is yes because nothing is no because newness and oldness and foraing for fruitness and calmness all come from the same place in the universe beause the universe wants to run through you like sickness and health and divinity of hell and help and horace slughorn’s dancing diamond feet and running rushing waters slimy turpentine retreat
like all those trips to the adirondacks where you sat pouting and pushing and pruning and protruding
like all that anger and hatred i felt when i fell, when i knew it was you, when i touched through the blue and slid through the screw jacket jungle gym of being him and knowing it was you it was you
your fault, your dissolving wind, your helpless hurricane of disgusting desire to be pure to be profitable to be proud to be perfect

life is a confusing bundle of flesh.

settling that strike kept your coal your old your aching white bones of burning hot sweet flesh fuming under the surface of the moon undr the aching white birth canal of hot s[plintered flesh of fragments of furnaces of funerals and forests of finally finished furrowed brows

i let go of him. i let him slip and rip and dissolve into thin air i felt his hair coming out of my hand and


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