it's like this. i won't get to sleep without getting these sentences down, black & white; subsisting and mortal. it's like this: start thinking about the beginning and end of a human heartbeat and you might never really sleep again. sure your eyes are closed but your breathing never steadies, your brain doesn't take walks in the park it opens windows and then falls out of them.
you were looking at me earlier, your sunset eyes, and i thought, if the space between our mouths does not dissolve i cannot promise that i won't fall down and then lay there mapping out the theoretical requirements to convert to a creek or some other quick-moving body of water.
i thought it but i didn't say anything, i stayed quiet and just stood there against the wall like a tree that's been rooted since before we were born, the space between our mouths still sitting there, an empty parking lot.