the hour is late
Having the hardest time concentrating.
Need to think about things.
Can't understand exactly which reason is the cause of a misunderstanding.
Candle is burning for no reason other than that it looks nice.
The hour is late and that seems to go with the candle theme.
Sometimes, garbage can seem like the most divine matter, something so important.
There is no garbage in here though, and how that thought came about I couldn't say.
Would think that dogs know something we don't.
Would think about golden fields on the side of some far off mountain.
Would die and death would be nothing but a ruined painting buried in rubble.
No need to concentrate anymore, my molecules breaking down and running into a stream.
Where is it going?
Can't say.
I'm moving so slowly now that a snail would appear to me like a shooting star,
streaking across the ground.
~
1998