I was being flayed by light's hell nouns pouring through the cracked window. Everything inside my little room now looked like digestion. They, the hidden forces, wanted to publish my dead canvas, complete with worldly eyes, and present me as what happens to a body opposed to form. Then they would explain what was behind the curtain regarding the "whys" of the terminology used in footnotes. Outside, community standards line both sides of the route. You can hear them in construction sounds, footsteps on the street late at night. I was reassured that we live among points of light that help guide us past pitfalls. The native dark has much to offer us. This uttered by the malevolent article-conjunction person.

First he, or someone like him, sutured the organization so that some of its members could dance in the tomb high high up in the black hoop storm, magnifying with slipped consciousness this motion-filled intimidation dream--very Alleluia! He or someone like him then fired those responsible for the poisoned fluid recall.

Night saw ripened power shoving the lost living to their knees. They were said to be looking for their joy. I cloud up as if I were quantifying endings amid blows doubling as God. This as weather continues to fall on us via the innocent blood of the sky.