trying not to try

2003-08-11, 2:11 a.m.

and it must be like a chess game, the fingers that feel such small changes in the curves of a wooden figure, that external view that can only be interpreted from the internal, the sounds that spring from natural splendor. sometimes life is that, the sounds and the dips and the views that boggle a lopsided cortex, to be of use is all we want, i speak for the arrows of time, i speak for the planes of space. maybe the mysterious creaks at night are a sudden shift, but who can tell whch way the wood is shifthing; we are focused on straight being straight; hello meaning hello.

what would the surprise amount to when we found there is no straight when the expanse is so overpowering that direction disappeared. ether in her eyes, the clouds of unknowing existence. aware that we are is the first mistake to becomming etched into the walls of a manifested cave, all the while we feel the primal colors coarsing through us; outline me with blood, and shake me with a powder white. nothing falls short like my last sentence when i want nothing more than to be wrapped with humanity.