To the hours, the stairs
the uncertainty of the floor
tilting beneath your raised foot.
To echoes of whirling voices,
dissonance and rain bouncing
on borrowed graves.
To pushing, pausing
wondering if this holds meaning
or sympathies for floppy haired fascism.
We do not see,
we do not know.
Unless, there, in the vague shifting outlines something sharpens into brief definition.
Holding against looming mystery, before collapse.
I saw myself moving – blind I saw myself still – blind I saw myself as rooted earth – stone I saw myself as debris – shit I saw myself pushed through space – water I saw myself shaped by water – blind I saw myself as a sphere –…
Crushed lips Colour me in every eye. Watching. With hands. Restless. Seeking. Accepting. Misunderstood. Soft Nests. With Every step Exeitment evokes. Cant conquer the tones of past rythms. Calm will find you. Through plumes douces et pierres. When the drop breaks Melts your skin. When the masses surround your foot.…