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i can’t tell you how often you absorb yourself into my, this memory. i wear a band of rubber about my wrist, hoping it would aleviate some sort of pain i feel when the veins rise and i’m let wondering what to do next; should i walk, should i pray?

you know, i never even began to feel this way. it’s just a dream. it’s just a dream. it’s just a dream and i’m waking to it every day.

if you watch the skinny cat find its way back to your opened hand, you’ll have patience enough to live with me. if you can stand and laugh at the squirrels, their tails let-waggling, watching me, as we converse in tongues left before we were born, you’ll have patience enough to live with me.

does time really tell, or does it speak itself in whispers, much more slipping than communicating?

be-yoo-tiful
you're in your

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