prosolar mechanics

how mindless she travels like you question a river of why there's an image. a pattern evolves. somehow she catches your eye. stepping over a sudden crack in the bank. where's the shoreline now? fades to a staggering blank. are you spinning are you banging your hands on the glass? it's not breaking and this breath could be your last. longevity breeds a generation of names it's so punishing to let go to let go and stay the same. (some say drowning is painless if you can fight the urge to breathe. i'm face down in the waves and i can't stop the swallowing.) she wrecks another and the body spills by the lake. is it moving? look at her hands look at her legs. do they shake? she wrecks another and the body spills by the lake. did you know her or the lines in the pattern you make? longevity breeds a generation of names it's so punishing to let go to let go and stay the same. (some say drowning is painless if you can fight the urge to breathe. i'm face down in the waves and i can't stop the swallowing.)

he lives like an amateur always looking for the path of least resistance. he lunges for the opening leaves behind his private trail of tears he doesn't hold on. in coming, in coming, in coming, in coming down to the shelter and everyone's gone. we need common enemies hold me, will you darling i should feel consumed by you the future will deliver me soft sounds for the living hurry to this hollow of mine... it's the future of sex and i will not be armed when the bottom falls out it was not for love if the future is next let me not warn cause when the bottom falls out i will be in coming in coming in coming in coming

the girls go secretly to bed with their backs to the doorway. whether they pass on to sleep doesn't matter. they turn on. bitches don't wear black. they wear soft colored nightgowns and we hear better in the dark. the girls wake up and turn their heads. there were lights in the hallway. shouldn't they go back to sleep if there's no light to turn on? bitches don't stand back. they just wait in the hallway and we hear better in the dark. i could count the cars from bed. (there were lights in the hallway.) down the middle i see red but there was no sound to turn on. bitches don't stare back they just fade out the detail. and we hear better in the dark. i did not mean to leave you this but there was nothing else to leave. you are all that i can see and you don't come to me. bitches don't flash back they just fade in the background. and we hear better in the dark. i did not mean to hand you this but there was nothing else to me. you are all i need and you're so willing. bitches don't give back they just hang under retail. and we hear better in the dark. everybody all the same with the same story each time. never one but many names. all the same story each time. vicious love attack and create all the details. we hear better in the dark.

i walk sideways in half the time it isn't that long but i don't wait they are behind and far away but hope dies hard hope finds a way. he doesn't like it when i say but i rattle on about you anyway and i feel wrong and unaware it's like i just don't get the culture under here. but instead of breaking in or falling out my life is going limp my will is hanging by a thread and i just can't follow through without it. hope dies hard. hope finds a way. i walk sideways i wait a long turn. hope dies hard. hope finds a way.

pull the covers off me so i can see you in the dirt of the morning and if i fall from mattress to floor you could just drag the body down and if i am still beneath by afternoon a series of carefully arranged rules enough to deliver me. lift the heavy off me so i can feel the light pouring into me and if i am small when i should not you could just pump the body up and if i am still beneath by count of ten don't think i haven't got arrangements for stealing a breath or two taking it right from you and don't be afraid. it isn't all that hard i'm just the same as air a million tiny threads and not one single day comforting the dead and holding out for life.

mechanics are desperate like me. unrehearsed even though thousands of hours in places like these. adults are desperate and mean overdressed even though thousands of dollars and magazines tripping wires long ago dead so speech flows and reaches sorrows. adults are desperate like mechanics marooned for life on distant planets babies born of time and panic what i would do if i'd remember to. humans are born and then they're gone infinite worlds maintained in one we contact none. adults are distant, lost on planets marooned for life by mathematics equations solving time with panic what i would do if i'd remember to.

at times the hardest part of being is being still how it seems nothing ever rests if nothing moves does time exist? motion seems endless and still still looks like dead from here. i've found the hardest part of doing is doing nothing nothing while i'm watching time collapse an ending that's motionless tomorrow i will change said out in space, to nothing take myself out of range i will stay off location abandoning my station out in space, to nothing tomorrow i'll behave tomorrow i will change myself said while out in space to no one save particles that do define my limitations in this plane. they are contained in every speck of dust that binds me in a world of physics.