(0211) all that you serve is dead

lipstick of preference, envy of the times. a cryptic response would not be any more likely given a matter of fact or fiction. feed their mouths with the critical doubt that nothing can ever be the same. i walked through the walls, and i held my breath. a balancing act indeed. there must have been a million faces. sequential thoughts - set aside. and i feel free again. alive - to the point of sedation every night. can't remember the past and can only envision the future. raindrops in motion; forceful negotiation underway. and i don't mind the memory loss. it just makes things clearer. no need for noise. no need for silence. just a need for emulation. exaltation. pen slips away; no thoughts come. only going. hold this in your broken hands while you walk though empty fields of sand. keep your finger on the trigger. maybe one day, it'll die so go ahead and try to pray yourself to heaven. just try.

(0210) a trace unkown

light is a nuisance. it distracts from a reality that we could've seen without it. stuck in restraints, i've been on your floor. i've seen what you looked like when i opened that door. if the dam has broken, we'll rebuild it slowly and i could write poetry as your life comes undone. and all the stars will come together. i know it's been so long ago. but the passing comes to resemble all that you left behind.

and so, we'll break free. the time soon will come. a flickering screen puts your static to rest. created for nothing, all use has expired. the engine is failing, and you're god's getting tired of what he made. there's no place to stay. there's no time to gain and nothing to hold. and when the world explodes back into dust, there'll be some kind of order and any presence will fade.

seems like an ocean couldn't hold it. no such resistance could repair. in conjunction with your memory, i've been bleeding inside and out, alone. an open ending to this book couldn't have been coming any sooner. if you only could have read this, you'd be more inclined to tell.