i see letters conversing in steps and clefts.


so i guess it was pretty nice, a bittersweet punch in the face
dwell as a tightrope walker addicted to the dead weight trance

i suppose it was the chemicals.


when the curtains we're drawn, i remained.

i saw the infinite jest in irony, in paradoxical things, in the troughs and peaks.

and so sanity is only as sane as it seems, then because you are what you willst you will and shall be obligated to suddenly just be, to consign it all and simply be
just simply be

i am slightly turbulent beneath the chest.


wild and uncivil was desirable,
and mending walls are never so wide as they are tall.


connecting dots. . . . .
to the next annunciation.

the divide was so eerily similar, it was merely the

it was simply, space and the idea that remained behind everything that decided fate.

it
scared
me
senseless.

Geoff said this. I responded,

rightly, so.
you cannot go about
simply parading as some obscene novelist
flaunting some civil and largely respectable demeanor
only to turn your back on the masses of youthful african eyes

at the mere mention of Elbaz's .45.
dammit man, have some back bone

he just knodded. the savannah was different now than it was 10 years ago. we both knew it. we both felt it. the star and lemon grasses didnt whisper back with the wind anymore. the waters once animate and crystal now anemic and obfuscatory--tainted by the collective apathy and negligence of people who had succumb to the villainy of the machine. some one always paid a price. for the people of laikipia it was 1.00 USD a day clearing traps and gutting carcasses.