Sunday, 18 January 2015


this is a flurry, a response to something or other, some current that picks at your teeth, that courses through your tight veins, that whistles on long after the attacks have stopped falling, this is a flurry, like snow in its wonder, a mystery from above, you can take this apart, you can take it to pieces, you can make it understood, but it is, as well, a word from some god that was made up long ago, or one that sits beside you now, was this headache the result of atmospheric pressure? has recent sugar intake been too high? is change coming? thoughts are like hail stones you can't catch.

this petered out at this point.

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