old old old

I’m waring my vision specks today… strange trophies and semioticks are
rising out of my depths: too bad my literal shoes are fraying at the ends,
and plus all covered in mud
and I knew I was in trouble: I just keep hoping that mud will fall off on
its own, will disintegrate and vanish into such teeny partickles that they
won’t trouble me ever not ever again. mind just barrelling tangentionally
what are these conversations I dream of having in the land of nod and which,
confuse, make me believe for brief moments that they are real when I am awake?
almost so much that I almost speak of them as though they really were…
(ho ho, and I remember the funny jogging woman with the funny purple hat)
and what’s this weird pink laser we keep talking about? Vast Active Living
Intelligence System, indeed. who knows if time is just a fiction or an illusion
and whatnotwhatnot. who is the living incarnation? and what does it matter
really? how much does the mind create? and how much is already there? should
I be heeding all of these creeping signs and omens or, like a fool on the
hill, dance oblivion at the precipedge. this needling terroror (dog), which
seems to be driving me over the edge, onto knifey rocks and pools of purling
poyzon, is actually hanging on tight, to keep me fast and sage. He is the
terroror to keep and pull me back into the smokey plainlands. (why do silly
people have to hurt one another so? when only every everyone wants just the
only all and same thing: to be loved and to love. to come home to that, is
hard. I hide in my room. “what’s new with you,” she says and he just sits
mournful and I say, “not much,” but I think “AIIIIiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiieeeee!”
and flee to me room, where I collapse for an eternal moment onto dream. too
bad I drift off hearing voices in the stairwell… and to wake after is to
feel shocked and to shout and to find myself standing awake…) what if I
don’t want to go there, dog? what then! What if I like my edge-dance? what
if I like this grail dance? what if I like whhrrrrrling in bright and dangerous
circles? I see all these shadows. I see them. I love him with a treacly love;
I love him with turtles and thingbobbies and tornadoes. methinks I need a
new symbolself.

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