Her language falls apart the longer she is lost in a forest I do not belong to at my feet there’s an empty blue carton in cracked leaves and language falls apart toward the end of a thought I do not belong to and want to step around the rocks but fear my body in versus with nature for example
it’s possible water shines aluminum through empty branches across there it’s possible she is fearing nature and fearing nature will never be the same in my head and the light over me when I actively want to step around the rocks but how long has it been this dark, in the dead of it, there’s not even a candle, or a hero. I just want a world to be made possible
as we exchange hands and language about boats and round light against an arm in scales and whirrs. I remember what I take in material value and how many hands changed then in different light and fall around some rocks trying to remember the body I do not belong to but am here in the context of moving water that reminds her of what is possible,
what’s over there, a strip of dry land, the other side of a whisper about a boat in a slow way I am tired of the boat refracting then her words fall over the rocks and on the other side there’s cranes and lights jumping down the tower as she is in the dead of not a single word.