they’re showing through the walls creaking unannounced splintering the plaster under the weight of displaced years forgone promised ages prosperity dissolved in mere cabinets tossed into the dumpster fire set alight with hope fanning the flames and asking myself if there are s’mores in the future
In her basket Underneath all the fluff Revolving around six chambers Every one ready For this time tomorrow
Displaced evidence, conveniently unavailable appears in the last place they looked The whirlwind presence Distracting gravity for a moment Fluttering pages and flying telephones Crash landing in between upturned desks and chairs Alarm bells ringing As if to say Wake up
have you heard the news, pushing rocks up mountains; we are here with you.
surmising from this, first principal occurring; in conversation.