keep going

i gave them teeth. and a bread belly.

spaced and caked in useless words, eyelashes stuck together but laser beams bolted through. a robot machinist caged a pink soft form. he stuck a dead head onto my own.

i roamed around with this bloody head, unable to see. it had been chopped just for me.

so at last dragging chains up the hill, looking at bare branches and making up trails of line. no eyes without line. took off the head finally.

tis the season for glare headaches, for dehydration, for sugar and quitting. a bodily thinning rendered impossible. even the smell of it is pure lactose.

silly little one, what are you trying to do? just give up.

let them go.

they might come back.

each scene is etched in, with words and everything. i'll never forget, i've got alot.

old man opens a gate, young man walks in.

pink soft form grows softer but at least its thin. desert desert calling, space.