IT WAS PARADISE AFTERALL. IN A THING LIKE BURNT RUBBER.

IN SECRET AND AS SUSPECT, AS THE SNAKE WHO SWALLOWS HER OWN TAIL AND SPITS IT BACK UP; NO TASTE FOR INFINITY. THE ALCHEMISTS SPOKE OF A SERPENT OF LIGHT RESIDING IN THE HEAVENS. WHAT KIND OF TERROR IS “ETERNAL RETURN”? I GRIN WITH THE FEAR OF IT. FURTHER DOWN INTO THE MATTRESS SPRINGS WHERE THE FISH SWIM, DARKER PREDATORS SCOWL. ABOVE MYSELF, I IMAGINE NOTHING FLOATS, BUT ONLY STANDS WITH HEELS THAT DIG AS IF INTO DIRT- MY ANKLES SING AND SPLIT WITH SPIDERY CRACKS GOING ON TO WEAVE AND MEND A BROKEN CONDITION THAT IS INVISIBLE AND SOMETIMES WRETCHED. IT IS PRACTICALLY DRIPPING OVER. QUICK MORNINGS OF FRESH AND FLAT. GOD BLESS THE FOOL WITH COOL SKIN.