Might be what makes might not be was what vainly to have been still trying to be the unmade undone which cannot hide under shrinking skirts disappearing up into the in between kneeling falling out into such a fall out. Erasing in the midst of it the cranky eraser sticking at times this time as it skips along the asphalt up and down up and down until it comes to a useless rest useless rest. Up now down later up later down now for the in between missing the dry erase mapping hitting the abreactions colliding with another miss taking another hit on the while away lines gone wringing out what's known what's left filling in the expressions of the same old role stapled to the ground sprinkled with ignored thirst.
Leaking in leaking out with reservations under the Sun behind the clouds clouding the path leading to cracks tarred over in distractions. Run to run fro running past running into with breath all that breath dislodged from these walls returning less enthusiasm for eyes diverted where is all that breath kept outside teeth grinding under thoughts replaced by blank stares dislodging more air in bronchial rhythm conducted to the expiring waves of the dirge.
Where did the words go? Adhering to the urine stained shorts of the dying man walking not dying for too long a time for the up and up of pain coming back lower back coming back to his back as he came back to the tree tilted by the storm and its clouds pasted to his skull thinning to the pattern the routine in between the asteroid and the piece of shit. Inside the homeless mind fathers wander along black and white streets to nowhere while outside children have given up the search.
Noting who stands in what box and what boxes hold what landmarks of patches of dirt, asphalt, and concrete. Feet shuffle over them under them knees scraped and banged without reservations based on what was consented to with unvoiced reservations coming back to what boxes hold what dirt, asphalt, and concrete stippled with uneaten banana bread. Run to and run fro running away has been leaking out of minds and their air conditioners streaming with condensation looking for base.
- Max Stoltenberg