the great art exists out of canvas off the page in your head out of tune, past the screen
you can leave your brilliance simply by leaving a fingerprint wise silence has never been written the best word is not spoken
things always move faster when there is something to relate to the moon is a reflection of the sun and here i am a reflection of you mine is the mind of a mnemonist i am rotten and ragged
leaving marks to show that we were there: everywhere claiming first so that i can charge you for seconds i live my life as a series of moments expanded into an infinite my hands are sails cutting into your breath pushed and full by your words
flickering by your entropy/turbulence and you know, i ride your bumps well, shock this i am a series of words traded over baited breath a lack of completeness a walking impossibility
i am not the crowd from which i draw i am not i
those that don't lose their color in the dark not looking back and knowing
i stay until closing and linger in the shadows i am the winding road, the corner less taken 1 am the bites and scars pushed deep
i am 14 million stories, histories and nyms into one i am not i i am not individual i am orange dimensional the crisscross the jungle the jazz ataxia
the waning light, offshore, off distance i am breaking rules and reeds this is my time i am chaos i am fractal i