hair to the pavement and face up in a sea of skirts (rebelling against tact). revising a pattern of life to fit a chaotic mold in accordance to new observations of reality. i awoke today to find the head of my dead mother filled with surprises and, to avoid awkward silence, we spoke in depth about the qualities of a good listener. stacked chairs and broken windows distract from the real issue – as subsidiary concerns monopolize the spotlight there is a shortage of meaning or sincerity, but never both. the brown sky, grey clouds and dying trees spell trouble yet my only concern is the capturing of this moment in a positive light.
their words still haunt me. tell no one