Perspective

"Ohei. 'Sup?"
Dayum, look at those legs.

I am beginning to find your words in my mouth

They taste like...marmalade

And maybe the thoughts behind them are the same, too

(God, what a thought)

This is not really something I want to understand. You are not really something I want to understand.

It is too bad, though, that I am not quick enough to keep up.

In other directions, maybe, but you got a moat o' molasses 'round your feet now baby.

One should be leery of rhyming creatures;

One should never take seriously a creature whose first interest is

A sound

A skip

A beat

They have likely learned to rhyme up their words by first rhyming and riddling up their hearts.

Ha

Don't believe in me.

But laugh with me, maybe. It's the only way to get flying dogs to ground, drag 'em through the mud a bit maybe, but hey, it don't hurt 'em much, and it's the only way to get any fun out of 'em.

But even after all that fun, don't you take nothin' that ain't fur seriously. Not feathers. Not nothin'.

The left eyeball plucked,

The right wept

Not for the new found knowledge of ten million futures and ten thousand wisdoms of the world

But for the one knowledge that it should never see binocularly again.

The world stretched out like a book before Odin then, one he could read with ease

But a very flat
fucking
book.

The right eye wept on the pages; maybe for sadness; maybe for spite.

I crouched down by six fat, purple starfish that got caught out in low tide. Poked em a few times. I couldn't stay until the water came back, but I stayed for awhile. I think it is against some rule to grab a starfish and huck it back into the water, and also, I think it would hurt their feet. So that is why I didn't do this thing. But I stayed for a little while like that.

I was born in a valley of kings

Mountains full of blood oranges and suns

But-

Well, I dunno. Whatever.

Hard to unwind a brain, harder to unwind a brain full o' burs.

But I dunno. Whatever.

This

under the premise of that

Can I get away with this?

That?

Where there is art I breathe

Where there is not, I do not

I think it is because-

Well, when you steel yourself for a punch in the gut, you hold your breath

But if you don't know when it's coming-

Shit gets boring when you can't breathe, is all.

Which is why I'm glad-
I'm fond-
Well, whatever.


Chest feels like a strange-breathing barnacle

I do not entirely believe what I am told; not because it is not true, but because how could anyone believe such a thing? It is the denuding of a rule (from your mouth, at least). It is like saying "book, you are a book" or "Odradek, you are a whatever-the-fuck." It is unnecessary; it is known, if only in the sense that each of these things would not exist as what they are (and what they are is significant here if nowhere else) if this fact, rule, whatever, was not in effect.

Malus
Malus wake up
Malus