As though the life and times we
Harbor aren’t part of the continuum of space it occupies.
Cry like the first time your mother kissed you good night.
Like you realized that you didn’t love her.
Not with eyes so arrogant
God would fear a listen.
This is the beginning,
Almost anything can happen.
Your pale indifference is the centerfold of my
Life’s dynamics and as I wait for you to decide
On whether or not this is real, cool, solid.
Flesh it out. Flesh it out.
There is no life here,
There is no life in the hobble hole.
Space is perpetuated by the constant flux of my imagination.