I ask the question yesterday ,
"God are you with me still ?"
Like a Jesus waiting for death , as though in the vein of "why have you forsaken me"
the answer is , it was always there , and
what was forsaken was my memory
to this
or also to say
my memory had been remembering a mirror of a past self to
the extent of blinding me temporarily
long story short
the curtains opened like they would
and then a lot of strange and funny stuff happened only a creator could emit
into this dream bubble i was creating
with every other one
orange sunset
i read my words to wonder how to hit post
i never care after they are done any more
the arrow loosed
and the interior air pressure remained equal to the surrounding water temperature
outside the door
the television tells
hope your all well
alive and bristling
