Mary

Mary mocks my mind, man.


Mary means misfortune, misery.
My!

Merry Mary misses me : mistake!

Move, Mary, move. Mahogany!

Meanwhile,
Mary's mother motivates me more
Mary's mother mocks medicine.

Magnet! Manatee! My, magic. Machinery mows me more.
Means?

My mind meets Mary, more mess. My maze - murder.

Mourning more. Mistery, myths, miles... Many miss, many!

Most miraculous mistletoe marches, measuring me, meaning maybe monkeys marching.


Mayonnaise makes me merrier, Mary.

Develop.

Tumbleweeds.


Dust,
in wind.


Surely you were bound to be like them,
those who came at last, tired yet never-worried.

With dirt on hands, and cold looks, and sweating.

Surely you were effortless, but we spin and we sweat, and we go out of our way for you, but you concocted this, now finish it.


How come you chose money over this?

Gap missing (from 7AM to 8PM)

4 A.M

I got up and put my socks on, and my boots, and the rest of my garments. I washed my face
and went downstairs.
I fed the dog and gave him fresh water. Then, I made some toasts with butter and along, my favorite, homemade grapevine juice.

I, sick, with an ailment, brushed my teeth, hugged the dog goodbye, got everything packed, and went outside.

It was cold and gray, and fainted blue, and the sun was nowhere to be seen, yet.
The grass, green, and moisty, for it had rained the night before.

I took care of the hens, and fed the cows and cleaned the sheeps and brushed the horses.
Daily routine.

7 A.M

I went downtown to buy some food, and pay the bills,
I drove past the gas station, and visit my grandpa's farm. Hillbillies, all of them. They're still the same. Love them nonetheless.

8 P.M

I got home, and it was snowing.
I turned the radio off, parked the car, grabbed my coat and put it on, and I got home. The dog greeted me from the window.

I opened the door, threw the coat, went to the kitchen, made some hot chocolate, turned the fireplace on, kicked my boots off,
lay on the old sofa, turned the TV on


and watched whatever was on it.

It turned out to be some 50's soap opera alright.





Whoknowsmaybetomorrowitwillbedifferent

sigh

Sigh
you're dreamy


and well-to-do

On the road

(driving: )

"Maybe it's a crooked mistery but I'm not sure why because clouds don't say:

how can this work when muddy grounds shake
and instructions are part of the wind blowing

(and no, it doesn't fit, it's a thread)

But the crack is so wide, and we're falling.
One like you, blueeyed, is to be longed.
But he just won't see, he won't feel.

Or, maybe time is not one to be seen, but to be thought of.

Oh, we're building. Excessively."

Bearhug

Deaf tone___________________________________________________

_______________________________________________________With
white spit on the ground ;;;;;;;;; !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! ooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

It's meant to b
e

s
tic
ky

Most proud of contact -o-o-o-o-o ppppuuurreee tennnnnnssionnnnnnnn

((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((Ground on tongue > see >
Licking. Stiff . . . . . ..... . . . . . ...w.....

Reach out widearmed fullbodied and touch again, undo. Again, undo. A-

And spitting, slowly. (you live where my ancestors lived and some still do)
Making bubbles. Send
them
o-.ver ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^(open)^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

That's desire. /on/ think think think take advantage think think

Scrapping the ground off. ROUGHLY - roughly.


That was
after the bearhug // jkljkljkljkljkljkljkljkljkljkljkljlkljljkljkljkljkljkljkljkljkl

Left you : the same
Left me, --->----->------->--------->------------> explode(me

visibly shocked / hooked. (Can bear with it. CAN) ,,,,,all

God forbid I think otherwise @@@@@@@@I@@don't@@@@@@@@

(think otherwise)

Seek me, WOULD you?,,,,,, (blend____________fold__a world)

(seek me, would you?)


(spit) (;)ççççççççççççççççççççççççççççççççççç))) 0 0 0 0 0 00 000

(that's desire)

(the same) --------------------------------´´´```------we share an alloy of who knows what

(hooked) -----&

Seek me though I didn't seek you at first.

beeeear-hug {carries me} . in arms of longing skin, of burnt one. In tradition, in commitment.

Can care. (;;;trash) :::::::::::::::::::don't:::::::but:please::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: beat it.

Love travels

It's most likely that love travels.
Through wind, yes,

and trees and fingers and hair and teeth.
Somehow it goes deeper than that.
It's a shape-shifter, a stubborn one, that just lingers there, and grows deep roots
and attaches.

And, with absence, comes coiling.

-

Love is a burden, violet.

Yet wings of time return with love carried, warmer. Openhanded, fullbellied.
And you fall, deeper.

Violet it's quite simple,
once you get ahold of it.

Try.
It may take any form.
Embrace it.

Change from eyes and smile to hands and voice or voice to mouth and legs or feet.

And build.

Like ice being sculpted




and melting.