it was a dark and soundless morning

days like today I indulge in static, in a comfort stationary, slowly sinking into silence. it may have been yesterday. the significance of everyday things oscillate wildly between pointless and all the difference between impoverishment and civilization. I wish again with a liquid desperation to realize a life neatly stacked on cubes of fact. the vision of myself as the focal pivot between progress and not, looms huge and constant, and I can hardly breathe or think to move. the ebb and flow of living, the rush of feelings and sunlight and cold, are enormous and ludicrous in a palate of continuous daily todos of constant temper and quality, like storms and wildfires scattering neatly arranged instructions for progression, the fact that there is music is filled with guilt and reluctance, terrible and incongruous. in the age of scientific reason, and exponentials of fractaloid machine logic, the real world is dulling steadily, systematically, I stumble around flat footed scattering the peace of a billion pixels. the deadly fear of water conquered by braving the elements to get toilet paper. in the hush of morning light and stale snow all around, I could be the only living human, there are no leaves left to fall, only cars with eerie light.

from the pensieve

her first was sky blue
we were four inside, plus one
in the middle of a bridge
stranded in the night
to continuous doppler honks
it wasnt any good
and there wasnt another
for the longest time
until she hung up the stirrups
and this one was gray
sealed and safe and untried
and it delivered, without
her at the wheel
and its now my turn
to not be any good
to not have been
for many many years
at what I loved doing
beyond reason, without filters
it does things