how all wanting ends

Last night was still and quiet when I stepped out for smoke.  I had quit months ago.  But I wanted to feel that smoke in my lungs again.

dying in a land that was always strange

The wind will be all that matters.  And the rain, too.

a memorial of things

“Fluffies now come with 15000 sheets per roll!”

the man with flowers in his hair

I can no longer see his eyes.  They are buried behind petals and greenery.  The eyes themselves may be feeding the root.

rustoleum on a midamerican evening

A bench that has no eyes can never really look out into anything anyway.

a turning

...hell’s got corners.  Hell, houses, bricks, belt buckles.

phantom pain

I saw him standing there at six in the morning as the sky was getting light.

i always bring you into this (and who you are)

...I know you hear this.

prelude to existential horror not read this, this is not meant for you to read...

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