Shifting as a metronome does.
Even complete physical exhaustion has not rid me of this sadistic mood I am in…

E.E. Cummings; a piece of art

may i feel said he
(i'll squeal said she
just once said he)
it's fun said she

(may i touch said he
how much said she
a lot said he)
why not said she

(let's go said he
not too far said she
what's too far said he
where you are said she)

may i stay said he
(which way said she
like this said he
if you kiss said she

may i move said he
is it love said she)
if you're willing said he
(but you're killing said she

but it's life said he
but your wife said she
now said he)
ow said she

(tiptop said he
don't stop said she
oh no said he)
go slow said she

(cccome?said he
ummm said she)
you're divine!said he
(you are Mine said she)

Deep

...now That! is a word worth something


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There are moments when I find it so difficult to escape from the variable emotions. I want and I need to grasp something solid. There must exist a stabilizer; of course I realize what this would require...
of course, I realize that I know nothing.

I feel that I need... something... and I know enough to make certain I forget about it

last night and otherwise

Everything falls into place...

Absolute exhaustion from too much of everything feels so painfully amazing.

raindrops and this sensation

it is dusk
Fatigue; there is nothing else but this and a desire
to lie on the glistening pavement
engulfed by the smell of the spring.
warm rain falling
breathing in the season
Darkness is setting
the angular window, the street-lamp
A dream of a bay
step into the thickness

wet with the dew of existence

```````

It is so easy to sit here
it is simply my favorite time of day

This calmness is refreshing.

I have yet to determine that which caused my inability to maintain the tranquil state I need in order to preserve my inner reality. It was absolutely cataclysmic.
It lasted too damn long!

On a different note, I have come to the conclusion that perhaps I am too cryptic. Is it a conscious effort or not? Every aspect of life seems, to me, fundamentally tragic, absolutely euphoric, and so on, but always thought-provoking...

It is all so utterly consuming

to begin

Contemplation
Restlessness

a clear sky.
drops of viscous rain.
sheets warmed by the sun [a desire].

this writing may very well have been inevitable