We say this every single year.
Working on a buddy's motorcycle
in the Autumn afternoon,
as a distraction from my artistic
way of ruining things.
Everything happens at once.
I survive wolves at noon.
Everything happens at once.
I survive wolves at noon.
There are no more weekends
where I live,
and I don't know
when I live.
Tell me how to disappear.
And how to reappear.
And how to reappear.
Acknowledging the passing
of time,
we become invisible,
only sounds in skin.
Diversion works.
Only when original.