Plastic luminations in the anatomically correct night quadrant. Unplanned and unforeseen dilations of flesh and space-time. Milky blue distances traversed in liminal travel pods, journeys completed and aborted in quick alternation. Here it is, the sought after multi-cleft terrain, complete with folds and raised areas, a landscape of little ass after little ass. Enchanted profusions of marks, shapes and lines, cohering into atmosphere. A minimalist expanse inflected with fairy tales.
I am trying to discuss my shack habits, my shed habits. The ether has become white with static, I am wanting to start over as it is little to make sense to me. Please unshackle me from the realm of this-follows-that for good. Three steps further into the bog of prehension, with the assistance of pulleys and gears.
Insomnia is the haze of tomorrow.