and this morning, i wake up feeling that i dreamt, but i don't remember what it was. it's sunny, and hot again, and spectacular, and i feel a terrible pain. it's the familiar weigh of the past, of having-done-like-so, for having-been-like-so. hurts. but it is so, and so it is, and it feels like birthing pains; not the pains of giving birth to something, but the pains of being born, perhaps... pains of becoming less, or something something. it's not very dramatic. (just like parting silk.) yellow curtains hang mostly still, and a bird settles upon a branch.
oh, i can't pretend to understand, this all. nor make sense yet, and again. now just is a skinless time. oh changes, and times... and i notice that i'm smiled, for seeing myself tangled so.
what a strange, incomprehensible, wonderful, gasped, life
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