blue shirt

here is it possible to sit nude as if you were dressed. soaking in warmth and illusion. escape may be one of the most common mistakes made by foreign speakers of english. always, we saw him and we tried to escape the bar. absinthe. speed hash wine drawing. walking. passing. emotional fantasy transfigured into a relaxation so complete as to signify loss of control, and a fall. no light. slipping out of light. with a crash. coming to thinking first you are burning, ten seconds of horrified sobriety and gratitude for not wearing makeup, because if you were it would surely by now have fallen into tracks. and then the realization that. giving. take leave. have taken leave of ones outlines for existense a volume that is all color. all sense. all sound withrawn from structure. light like amber. light like open. this is now, it kills me.


skip rearrange recline one second of looking from above. and confusion over whether the pain is from having seen your self there without . in cold . the sound subsides scale resumes. in falling, you of course have realized some state somewhat blissful rubbing away the sharpness of the line between waking and sleeping, snatching a thought from sleep to put it back in the world of the waking (because this is really what it is we resent most about sleep: we are unaware of any contiguity of this time, we cannot construct a narrative of our dream lives, things are seen, and what surfaces to be remembered is completely without context to attach it to in its own language, and for this it remains cypher and uncountable. but i skipped this, see, there was moment of having arrived to the point of sleep and yet a limb through an open door into something else clinging to a rope with toes. this is how the prow of a ship feels.