Tell me that I can be looser, forced,
Forest-lost in the thicket tangle of your
Intricate, dangerous thinking, falling
Into the heart of the dark woodland,
Slackening pace to be discovered here
By gorgeous, bewildering creatures,
By your troubling strangeness. I lose.
so you know how clouds are only solidified as monuments upon observation? when you remove your eye, they return to the pure nature of flow and water. i think that’s how i justify my inactivity. that somehow i can substantiate myself by never allowing myself to join the flux, that somehow what i’ve created as myself through constant selection and strengthening of my unreality might disappear if i’m initiated into life. never pick the flower, right?