The winter was so hot that there
were icicles everywhere, but they were naked
as they sweated out their souls.
In the corridor was a small rug
In the meteor was a rare isotope
In the middle was nothing.
It was not until after the long march toward breakfast
that the mind was able to achieve stability.
After all, who could wander that long in the architecture.
It was the architecture we remember.
It was the architecture we discovered that was hard to let go of.
It was not that we were too tired to get up.
In the air was a long, very long nostril
It was surrounded. It was invaded.
It was magnetic, it was repulsed by the vapor.
We don’t really know how these things unfold.
know there will probably be another fold.
But there can only be so many folds.
Seven maybe, three most likely.
The disease doesn’t like it when its sunny
The weed is not as smelly as frailty.
There are things that we’ve discussed, and
There are fires and there’s rust.
It is all because we must.
Not trust never trust, never ever. Just
lusting after an odd wind of chivalry
and diamonds in a logo signaling
that thing that no one has.
It was made for the thought of it.
The it that it always is meant to signal.
Not because of the frequent stops
\And the things that hide under its arms.