the road to somewhere is a tetris match against the walk in sidewalk of the promise me bullshit jobs no automatic capitalization or guaranteed sanitation beyond zone 3 of the ego is a ghost scaring the bones: i hate bullies so i’ve become one POW WOW NOW would be fair but i’m perfectly okay with just NOW there are already too many people with a telescope on regimes of truth i didn’t sign my sovereignty to my legs hurt because thinking against the future about the future because thinking because the future won’t spell much dexterity to any of my tentatively public limbs & i don’t even get many take-away drinks but i know the political is also espresso foam & every added sum but right here too, and mainly, the very dandruff washed off those mega sweet grapes from Aldi times the London Met helicopter casting shade over the sink eating voracious a blunt shadow to spite the shimmer around water drops left on read, mid-flight a mid-night in mid-day surely, this too is proof that relativity can be as Special and General as my libidinal economy, besides HOW CAN EVERY GRAPE BE SEEDLESS!? * as for statecraft, well, there’s no infinite reach on the air above and below the ground To paraphrase an academic footnote on constitutional spaces: any two straws sharing the same milkshake can spurt equity disputes among drinkers; a rather fatuous species-world perpetuant bias nature made up for colonial stock a zero-sum game which any linguistic fire work may very well shrug off for all autonomy is concerned with semantics Enjambment, bio & logical, may be the most honest way to be a fool: drink the cup dry, but puke it back in.