Broken proverb primordial actions, landscape fractured infraction. Who took you down a pure end calling? Who took you down into the crawl space? Crawling on your hands and knees, I fell in love with your crawling voice.
"Is love real?"
How do you feel the feelings that escape you? A solid state contingency flows through your escarpment; I felt your crawling hands below.
Below I felt your call for time.

Scarcity commonplace complacency. I fear the satellites in my bones: I hear the satellites all around me. Shook down forthright for righteousness?
Hell and hearing, fearing your consistency. Inconsistent with me?
Falsely accused of false accusations.
Falsely accused of being near.
Falsely accused of being you.

Autumnal transparency, I pine for you.
Do you think of me?
Do you wish for time?
Dreaming in your silence. Pulling inconsistent thoughts. Consistent feelings, persistent intentions, meek reflections; what are we now? Fox scalp capping, notwithstanding, falsifications wish on you. Her somber shade of elasticity struck me in deceit.
Sirens shine light; do you hear me?

Perish inconsequential; false deities sing for another golden age, calling on strangers, stranger in complexion. Stranger than foreign ideas of light and love in flight and flood. Where do they give their alien aid to those in need of lavish parade?

Deconstructing our innermost; finding that we used to know. Our abstractions pushing inwards, folding onward, disappearing. Disheartening. Disconcerting. Shooting through, and out around. Out behind us, in our minds. We're running; missing out on time.

Scour shard, pulling in the dark. Entry. Discovery: discovering you & me. Withal those thoughts, wherein you took-- [them]//(me)//[there]. Drop//and//Forget how you broke their backs with honest felt integrity.

Integral for consideration.
Integral to incineration.
Integral for continuation.
Integral to integration.

Encapsulate encapsulation [jolting silence], frost-bit creation. Cool to hear, cruel to fear; cold touch//heat wave. Burning faces :: ||Bu|rni||ng--||Pl|a|||ces|

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Foreign landscapes, folding places, searching for a cleaner image. We were under German skies: a cubist countryside.