i’m throwing it off in a big way &
no-one notices. i’ve seen it cause a
fuss & now that’s the only way to do

I carry within the unmimicable dark.

Weeping open on the train one day

I learn no-one speaks to the sorrowful

I mean it to be a thing that is lank but fond like a dead feather boa no-one can remember who it belonged to originally god

but you still grab it

  The distance between expanding curves is vexing.
    Consider what is lost

    across lines primed for transoceanic dispatch;