here https://youtu.be/eXAnXZw6O4A video lying on my back i never thought this would happen gone. in the distance chattering. night and day we hear it, chattering. no idea whatsoever what it is. it just _is_ and just _like that._ my head falls to my knees, exhausted, what was that word, that sentence, what language (no one speaks around here, you and I speak, our love, our love)how thin our bones are! how thin our faces are! how thin our minds, togther, conjoined ! how thin the world now , now - how very thick the world ! uf nt fubgers ryb agaubs tnt iwbm tebsuib abd gruefm uf n fubgers ryb agaubst gers uf we ca=kasom ab aknist yb== unbearabke delight .forever gone, forest gone, stream brooklet they're dried because they're not dirty. they might be scabbed and crusty, red/black in that sense, uneasy to look at. "all feeling's gone from them" he said in against the dried and flaked skin, edges still damp, messy from the action about a hundred meters over there.my posture left me / i fell hard against something, a body, our teeeth, both of us, raw against the gravel. the dawn was dust in our eyes. i could no longer think. the sickness got hold of me. what was once a plateau was now furrowed, my mind and its contusions . just like that and i knew when i spoke i didn't know what ened here and began elswhere, unable to think or write and wonder the dark red retangle when i closed my eyes maybe blood or something else, the black background in the center WHER THESE WORDS LIE remained the same, on odd combination where darkness stroke a semaphore about half a meter off the ground. the plane undulated or did. with the trees gone, there were rivulets in the storm cut into the hill now barren with once dust and roamed there a cheetah within the grove over the hill, plankton . the slightest dampness alwas indiates the presence of death. we knew it was a known fact . one of the few.for a long time we worried about our teeth, that was a while ago. not much to go on, ourneighbor on the other side of the fence said. the last sliver of light gleamed off absolutely nothing, the earh now a blotter absorbed * we knew nothinng would *arise* *rose* again -what was once fiction written by the living became fact unwritten by the dead . the depth of our daily lives is inconceivable, all the way down within the cthonic , silver plate glittered over there just for a moment, my writing got worse in the cirumstances whatever they were. an odd word in the singular, 'the circumstance of our death' for example : what on earth!i wrotethis before it all happened but as everyone knows, the smell of death carries bakwards from the future, envelops us, not as a warning, but as a circumambulation moving in that awkward and untoward direction .i write , writhe, hands slide left or write, catechism , their names from 40K BC already unutterably lost, unutterably.this has gone on too far, too shrot , too high, too low, too small, too right, too left (below)to the left of the path the ruins of food, to the right, bedding where the flakes of dreams remained . no above, no below, no going forward, no going back . ___ _______________________________________________ NetBehaviour mailing list [email protected] https://lists.netbehaviour.org/mailman/listinfo/netbehaviour
