silently and secretly happy i hatched a plan that would last another lifetime.

i held time tightly and i cared for the space that was around me.

because i knew it would outlast me.

of course they run to you . . .

they see me and i imagine them eyeing me suspiciously . . .

i have the whole stupid hurt of man and his history all wrapped up inside me.

i am passing through now lately akin to the kiss of a whispering flame i can gently feel some glow of detached and acute awareness uncurling those deadened wings (yawning to new aspirations) quietly dawning upon me a blanket of webbed dewshine.

my wings slack and dragged dirty the evidence of my death,
the drowning of that future filling my breath with abandoned towns and ships and hearts of corpse men,
i discard my spectacles and headlong rush to the next post for a fix of another future.

these desperate futures are played out in dreams.

i already know her answer because the question does not exist. it never has.

all i know is that i am full of a past that i wish was a premonition.

there is no balance here.

i have a body contract with my brain that overrides the ambitions of my limbs so i can think myself into shape when i don't need to be in shape to conquer mental things.

now that this dream of mine is wide awake i feel the glamour of fucking returning.

it is control that i love.