18 february

Off goes the wirework/ the spark perks its own caffeine and brews the truth that sets itself freezing… We are listening quietly and listing to the right, always the bright star rising and the darkness surprising when it comes and hums tiredly toward night. Wait until the wonder falls, wait until the curtain calls and the crickets light up. Do you have the tickets yet? Did you want to book a yes? Operators are standing by, operations are concentrating with focus too hocus pocused to admit in wider circles (we are all self-conscious, by design and underlined with highlighter and charcoal goal posts). I am telling the truth and it is setting everyone else free: What’s the deal and how does it feel to be you? How does it look to be ruing the day you say what you mean but it’s heard the wrong way? Wait and I’ll scramble it, wait and I’ll ramble it backward through a V8 a V6 a Super8 vocoder, an underwater decoder—give me a ring and I’ll climb in my cereal box… scratching all my chicken pox, I ended up with scars… elementary bars that I’ll wear toward the end of days and anyways who’s counting? The mounting crisis is one to step down from, the way numb fingers tingle in jingle jangle hypocrisy: knowing what I’m doing and knowing that I’m fading but believing in believing and believing, too, in hope. These are the dreams we make and stars we toss up into our skies even as they fall on our heads, land on our pillows, and interrupt our dreams. Hello, I call, hello right number wrong, and hello, awake. Wake up, remindbacker. Eagertime puppy seeks prettysun kitty for hello and yesplease but just asyoulikeit.