I floated once in an acidic haze with music in the gardens around me. The way the wind blew the willow trees, the way the water moved against the air, and the way the clouds danced like jellyfish told me all about the inconsistency of my senses under the influence of whetted paper. I looked through the space and found only meetings between. The water that moved was moving against the air, which was moving the willows in the willow tree where my friend climbed himself higher and hooted as all animals hoot, even ones that halucinate. Much later that night, when it was still inside me, it turned on it's heals and ran with the setting sun, tearing me apart as it split. The air connected the dark clouds to my lungs, the exhaust that bled from the automobiles swirled in my veins main lined. I came down hard and hit the pavement running. Like a dream I fade. Like a dream I live seeking the wakeing door so I can crawl from this sad womb into a brighter experience. Soaked tabs of blotter paper don't speak the way the forests used to. I can try and remember her voice, but it is lost in a scream. PEACE - Tristan
(just wasting time in a computer lab and remembering last summer with Jonce, Caller, and Loom)
before || after
