Retrospective in Spiralling

Stringing out a sense of space

Holding on to a glimmer of space not entirely floating away with each pulse pounding beat. Of not watching the reflection talk back to a mute. Wincing at the thought of thoughts and making the loudest sound with a cork of the left hip. It's feeling the brain lose it self in more than just a moment, less than a feeling and high up around the ceiling. All the while slumming the comforts of twisting back and to the right finding that sweet spot of a total blank. Each time knowing less and more of the instant that beacons. Making no sense of it all at times.

Soon Van - Wednesday, August 23, 2006 - 11:36

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