the sedentary journey abates. vivid contortions of the page. a thoroughfare. bracing, harsh and vile white stitches, elongated binaries folding under and over, over and under again. alas the subtle variable, the staccato of an ocular crescendo. and so it goes. down. to.

say.

as if it were
the black tongue.


the contemptuous black mouth.
the
egregious,
selfish plunder.

pierced with silver and steel.

for i have longed for a love like a movie.
like a film.
a complex creature.

beautiful confusion.
so that we may exist in such a suspended common ground that perfection may blossom. two. complements. complementary. but i cannot remember.

remember the words from the leaflet.

i cannot remember who it was that said
i am you.

for how long was it that i have forgotten the contours of my face but the hermit below had long been gone. so what remains but the deep black mouth and hot air.