HERE is what I heard from the birds who do not sing: here is what we have seen, here are the twigs from the tree you cannot find, one from a memory from when you were far-far-away. Think! Think of when you followed the end-tails of the Wild Hunt through the dancing forest. Think of dancing. I will dance too, for you, for you. There is so much I want to show you, there is so much I want to re-show you. You must escape, you must leave. You, lurking, you, leering. Will you take the harness? There is no exit. There is no bear, following. Drunken parades, slow circuses. A colony of ants will carry you over to my house for a one-on-one plasma donation. I want to be in a house & say, 'I love my house.' You were a child, then you were a storm. Remember the hill. Remember falling. Would you rather the horse or the rider? I wish I could know the reason why. Meet me, meet me, meet my eyes, meet your eyes. Do not tell me bad news, I will hang up the phone. Please, take up as little space as possible. Please, be a little rougher. Could you be a little rougher? Would you rather the hooves or the mane? My golden boy, my golden boy. Light from the windowpane tastes like light from a windowpane, and it was only ever going to be boring. Watch a waterfall, watch a dime flip through the air, witness miracles, witness air, look at the television screen. There are fish underneath. Bathroom tiles. Toll bridge agents. Curiousities. You owe me five dollars. Try not to cum. Oh, I remember the reason why. My hand aligns to signs through sky-scaped circus tents or an evening spent swallowing memories of a cloud that looked like you when you did not know beauty nor desire, a child with no soft fangs, an adult with no good hands. You, me, thou, I, happiness. I loathe the vanguard; these barn swallows sleep underneath the ornaments of ordinary men. I hail the huntress. I suspect the frost seeps into the cracks of teacups. I suspect the grace of an oracle shot an arrow up in the air ten-thousand years ago, and now it is going to land on your head. Heed to storm, heed to wings. If you stay still enough, you can hear every tree that falls down in the forest no matter where you are. There you are. There you are. Come to me, my love, my love, my love of bat-wings & other things, the dust, and the leaving. A doll that opens up, revealing a ring of real love. An hourglass full of sharp glass-sparkle-dust, take me to a mountain in the mouth of the morning, and who are you to judge my diet? Your heels click when you walk down the strip mall's concrete hall. Happiness, you, me, thou. Cruelty has its place around the iris, the orchestra in the orchard of youth plays a melody game where all the trumpet players look into each other's eyes until one of them cries, they repeat this until there are two left, they repeat this until every other player has marched to town. An ancient temple trap where the room closes in closer, a museum heist to steal the glasses surrounding the artifacts. You, thou, I, happiness, me. Heavy is the head that wears dope sunglasses. My mouth tastes like the insides of a rotten coconut. I held you, I cried, holding you while you slept on my shoulder on the train to the middle of the lake. I ate a tear to remember. I, thou, you, me, happiness. Your psychoses are personal, moral failings. Give into delusion, give into desire. You do not have the things you want because that's just how it be sometimes, dawg. You poser, give me your shoulder. You knight, give me armour. You sorcerer, push me in a shopping cart through the walled city, did you finally kiss who you wanted to kiss? It was New Year's Eve, then it was Summer, then back where it never started. I want to meet you. Meet me in the middle of the intersection, meet me at Khan's burial grounds. Meet me in the country of seriousness. I've been drunk since Hallow's Eve, and I'll be drunk until next Halloween. Ants from the sandcastle, ants, and their ant wars. And, are you happy? Would you rather the fences or the stable? Let me wash your hair, let me wash you. Let me wash your vital organs, let me wash your eyes. Map the moss. Croaks. Will you lead me to the relevant area of interest? I am thinking of you. Tie me to the ship. Auld Lang Syne. Infra Dig. Vis-a-Vis. I can speak your language, I can stay cool while you tell me about your new girlfriend. I can be funny, I'll tell the jokes. Tell me about your perversions, tell me about your curiousities. Would you rather the dust or the clomping? Turn fifty and be horrified by the thought that pure chance has ruled your life. Pass the salt, undress, show your uneven arms. Here is the thought: you under the streetlamp, you with a street, you and rocks, and trainrails, you and running, you and the after-blue that swallows the sky, you visible, and you in the scrapyard with a view of the ocean, you on a staircase, you in foreign landscapes, or a sky that does not swallow you, you swallowing, or you with not a thought in mind of how this could be journaled, or told to a friend, or next year's strangers, you totally in the world, you with your eyes not on the prize, you tasting salt, you hearing the clicks of your own heels, you in breathable clothing, you in breathable skin, you with an unheavy head, you tasting your own teeth, you as light as time, you as lovely as the past town's windmill, and the city that does not swallow you, you in that night, you on ancient roads, and not thinking of other people who have been on the same road, you looking, and having the time to look, and not wasting time, because you cannot possibly waste time when there is nothing to do, nothing left to do, there was never anything to do, never anyone to satisfy, never any place to visit, never any task you must complete, you in a desolate, you and your own hands, you and your own mind, you see a seashell and it reminds you of you, you see a picture of two kids and they are both you, you see an old friend and they remind you of you, would you rather the grassfields or the dirt road? Either way, either way, you must go where you go. How do you do the things you do? Experience yourself, beauty & terror. Either way, there is no escape. North from here, a tower. South from here, a tower. Come, come, come, come. Stand with ivory and spot yourself from away's land. There is no solution. There has never been an answer. There has never been a journey. You have not been dreaming. You have been you for a very long time now. Thank you for the plasma. You do not have to go home, but you cannot stay here. Steal a poppy, steal a rhyme, steal a riddle from a mime. Fool in the hole, storm outside. Cordelia on the shore with a jar of eyeballs. I chase for you, I chase for chasing. I do not know you, and there is so much I want to show you. The brightest minds of my generation are okay, I think. You are not spending the rest of your life with only yourself; you are also spending it with Others. Do not be so cruel, Sophie. I need my body. I need my body. I need my body. Please, do not be so cruel to me. I want you to touch me in a way that feels like I need my body. Will you stay for another night? I want you to be improper. I want you to know. Oh, fine. So I admit it. I want. Is that so bad? I remember falling, if you are asking. You are never asking. Dance again, and again. Everything is for pleasure, everything is for pain. Touch the star. Nothing I have said has been wise. Annotate or try to correct me, cocksucker, and I will kill you. I don't proofread shit. I steal from everyone. I am not referencing anything; I am straight-up stealing. No highlighters allowed in my vicinity. There is no satisfaction when it comes to me. Is there a limit on the number of rodents allowed into this bar? I am thinking twelve, put up a sign that says, 'twelve rodent limit.' Rocketships, rocking chairs. Enjoy the view. Talk to me, why won't you talk to me, fuck, fuck, god- god dammit, why won't you ever talk to me? Fuck, god! Fuck... Just- talk to me? Can you do that? I just- I just want to, fuck, can we just talk? I'm supposed to be your fucking friend and you're not treating me like a friend right now, I thought we were supposed to be friends, why are you so fucking quiet right now? Why are you always quiet when it comes to me and you're so, like, fucking, loud and nice and talkative and so, fucking, like, full of energy when it comes to everyone else but me. Will you- just- face me, god fucking dammit, you're just. Stop making me feel bad! You know I'm- I'm not saying I'm in the right, but if you just talk to me, I can explain, can I explain this to you? Can- just look at me! Fuck, god fucking dammit, I- I don't know what to do with you, I just want to- just. Fucking. Fuck! Can you- haha, okay, I can't do this anymore. You're making a face now, okay. I don't- that's like the first time I've done that, was it good? Like, less repetition, right? Okay. Okay, yeah, I mean- yeah, maybe next time. Yeah, okay. Uh- okay, where were we? Bird 38, where were we? Oh, ok. Hop across that little rock formation bridge to the other side of the river. Hope to slip, and fall, and float away, and farther. Come closer, and closer. And are you happy? I am, at least, I am happy with the state of football in the year 17776. With all else? Please, that's an invasive question. Mind your matters.