she was stolen through time, looking through the grime, messing her hair in the wind, feeling her hands as they went sliding across the streets of canvas. the primed wet soul of creation finally asleep on her back porch. we were running with boxes tied our shoes, trying as best we could to gather up as much dust as we could, to rid the world of its briny residue. to clarify the edges of space so that we could see once again. we had huge handles wrapped around our arms to try to tell the trees- we remember. we know what its like to have 12 limbs grasping in all directions for the purity of air, for the fragrant resonance of emptiness. we are reaching, we are planting out feet in the roots of the soles of our shoes. we are groundless and airless but we are scratching, we are clawing, we are boxing out of our boxes and pounding our cages with vibrant yalps and yelps. we are dogging and birding and fleshing and skinning just trying to remember how to swim through the air. how to fly though the ground. how to electrify our boneless wings. we are trying, we are trimming, we are ripping up our veins, thrashing cloud from cloud trying to see the sky again. we are polluting and protecting the primeval chemical spills we are bathing our cells in. we are mutating and we are manipulating every shred of every malleable magic we were given. we are arting and carving and throwing rocks into the sea just to see if they’ll skip like shards of sweetness. we are skipping the truth and boarding the train just to be amused, just to entertain the rain that keeps pouring in our lungs. we are poison and precious and saddled and starheaven

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