idea(d) i dead or ideation, dis- of the time or –dis of the constructed versions, yes, i let so many hands run over me because the sound they fed me was for a moment i’ll take your breath away. but don’t let wander confuse. this is a picture of the night i loved you unconditionally, the way planet means wanderer, the way we orbit the body, all of this time we were near one another but it took decades of mistakes to make us fit together now, this is a photograph of how time takes everything away
i imagine i wish them well, all the megans who are living and whose lives are scooped from mine, the universe bubbles in dimensions and if you call upon all of your selves do you wonder if there is a version close enough to perfect to make me feel happy.
who dares to wonder if it is the living itself that is the sickness.
addiction is such a special way of loving back. that disappoint that you all go on without me. is it that the heart wants what it wants or do we just like placing blame.
shouldering shadows.
a plunking down. eviscerated noise.
i was in a panic that we were owed the spaces to make art or love. not sure what mattered more or if there was a separation.
i once had a fondness for thinking.
the ways of the world now are a slow drift.
[sacred pause]
the things that happen in our heads are the only things we know with any precision
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