snowflakes in august, springs of the clockwork

You are beautiful.

there’s some beauty, fragile like snow

in between gestures and silence.

your presence absorbs screams and grating sounds like sand absorbs raindrops.

you lead me back to zero.


you lead me back to your zero.

i hook my psi radar to it and i am calm or happy for a few hours.

where is my zero? my own?

there probably isn’t a neutral zone for me.

there’s dance between -∞ and +∞ with increased skill and humour. agreement and acceptance of learning to do that ceaselessly and with reduced fear and effort. an act most people don’t have to pull off. so what? an attempt to stop the dial at any real number is like shoving a stick into the clockwork, the springs spring in your face, the whole fragile mechanism has to rebuild itself by hand and the watchmaker has glasses that are far too weak.


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