my thoughts are a red rubber band, an endless current of elasticity that stretches on and on through time and the threat of snapping is prevalent, the fear of breaking is always there and the sound of it beckons me back from the outer reaches of my strange revolutions. my thoughts are a light fixture…

all that i can hear is the clicking of a mouse, a rodent on speed and the clacking of keys as you hammer out your thoughts on the keyboard like morse code whose meaning is kept hidden from me. click clack. click clack. all that i can hear, click clack, click clack, and the vibration…

would it be more reasonable to remove an ear, to dress in yellow, to chase my thoughts round and round like a burning wheel, to sift through the penstrokes of my indelible ministry, the hypergraphia in my nerves, wormholes in my limbic system. are you there, manifesting nights from your eyes and drinking daylight from…

the line separating this from that is charged with lonesome axioms and electromagnetic impulses spur your legs to walk away, walk far into the night darling girl and wear it about your shoulders and weave it through your hair and tie it to your wrist and hang it from your hips. twirl a cigarette between…