On the Harmony of Missing Exceptions

covered in blots, pictures in lewd,
your standing out, dull winter cuts,
ice forms, making small pools, to
step, bring, back the night, bring
forth, our hopeful visitation. -


Dictation on Sight:

well it came to those last days i suppose, wondering whether the normal, following of days could ever be made into a proper dissensions, reality is always more percent, then one wishes to admit it seems;

i am still not sure what’s hiding beyond the long doorways, or why i could not bother to turn about, and rather follow down and see where the ghosts live.


-Felt it late, later then the days will allow, and more formal then condensing

]perils, oh, shots in dark rain, believing their birth, was immaculate and they could dispel all the errors, of it, to be home later then it would.

{no, nothing is still able to be formed in proper language when asking i still dissuade from knowing exactly what it is i am making it into, the parts of the order, are lost, in relational definition, there is no real coordinates for this, its extremes are invalid. }

Burning songs, songs, songs is it here yet, away, away, away, till it could, could, not, so where to go, and go, gone to, far from, out. Outside, and from away, and over there, and somewhere else. Sought, in, quests and searches, and candidacy, like a queue that keeps going and twisting and the lines keep ending on blank stone walls higher than they could fall, and not really sure why it was built, twisting spaces and thoughts, and mine, it was farther and further, and possible to be possible, would mean, something, anything, all things must seem to be right there.