All the poetic words and thoughts that were never recorded bring me up to this moment where I sit.
The words of left have left just like the apatite
She waits until I'm watching before she begins to eat.
since it largely remains parked out front she has become more calm sleeping under the table in the studio that I dreamed of.
the bike with the continually deflating tire often remains at the foundry overnight.
I will arrive home unexpected, and then immediately be greeted because she waits by the window just like I did waiting all day for my dad to come home.
We're all rushing to be the king of the hill. looking around and seeing the numbers,
we sit in the dust and draw instead.
I go outside to see your bike on its side and further I see the gate still open and so I decided to retrieve the recycle bucket and once I get to the front of the house I see that the front door is open with the lights on inside so all the bugs can go in.
