mo mo mo monsieur

je me souviens j etais enfant ,9ans ,et comme j adorais ces histoires de saturnin, c etait merveilleux ,feerique,et on etait si heureux de le retrouver chaque semaine, vive mon canard adoré saturnin !!!! sebastien de provins

aeon aim amen amiss amount amuse anemone
anent animus anise anoint anon ant ante
anti anus asinine ass assent asset assist
assume ate atom atone aunt auto ave
avenue ease east eat eaves eminent emit
emote emu enema enjoin ennui ensue envenom
envious envoi eon esteem evasion eve even
event inane inmate inmost inn innate innovate
insane inseam insensate inset insinuate insist insomnia

ani-mal

--So what makes mood, sound?

"I am always another language. One you almost know in fluency.
I consist of space and colors within and out. I am shaped moire from frequency and possibility of flexed eye, ear -- connect -- mind."

--So how is it I feel you so physically?"

"It is a sense of proximity to me in intensity of being."

it fit on.

past more than my future? Or only easier, yes thats it.

I can falsify my past because I know/hold it as my own but the future finds no facts to be misgiven. Even under honesty, there are forks of frightening complex.
There is just as much dark matter inside mind, but we still fill them with confidence(out of fear.) Peering back is often vertigious endless.
But on the other side is only expectant emptiness.
Why should I not entirely try to fill that and forget those that I make over agains? Tough; I can find feasables for both. Seems and unseen dreams.
And maybe I wont ever fit everything in. Maybe everywhere and anytime will make me sit still for once.
And receive over send. or everbalance.
over and out.

strategies

I have few and far between unseen strategies which dither and wabe with or without my suddenly head. Or sodden of stuff.

Where have the past few hours gone? If I continue to wonder this, why is it so hard to recall?

Oh yes. The endless list I hold within
First, why?

I have been awfully sea-unworthy lately (inc. inside-out overboard) and should I not try to grasp my life to grasp while my fists still tightly unwind rather than wind down? Shape has been fitter and the deck is rather sloven. Bogging down a sight out to sea down with bobbing warning wreath around me. I see it. I only push off. And float for ends. Meaning, less than me.

I've become shriveled; my fingers already slippery. Not without hope or nigh drying time. I need to open up and clean out hidden hangars and siren senses again. Find a simu-stimulant accompaniment pine. Black liqourish or white manes. Eschewing tongue ties; pulse blinds.
Or a metaphor everything. and half haphazard warning again! A haze that never clears unless something else sees me undressed...no I cannot keep this up.
Pick it all up, throw either/ors out, stack what is left into tiny, unmarked mainstay, and be similar to that circle you once spoke of with an epicenter outward motor.
You're still swiveling but motion comes to go. and rest should never be the end.

Endless Information

I guess Ill let some bits fly off of my own rickety hinges, pop off:
Feel falling into everymanmade space from luminescent eyes between screen and mind.
passing pulsations reafirm vision and sear senses.

I will try
at least
to stop starting things over. stop breaking sensibility.
start stopping
to think
and find.