The question marks are stalagmites.

The conversation dripping.

We’ve lost all form.

You’ve lost your way.

I feel like I am sinning.

To stay with you I would be.

[I’ve got to run away.


[I’m trading in the fame for some logic.]

The punctuation fleeing.



and, gently,
my world has moved
like dust

a spider
a trap

an Aries
on the cusp.