I will leave with nothing but the clothes on my back.

Seven days will save me from myself and everything I own.
I won’t speak up or write it down.
Time will wrap itself around thoughts and thoughts will wrap around the present.
Memories will crown a crowded head while wires will be kept dry and buttons unpressed.
I will forget my number and my thirst.
I will drain my veins of codes and what comes first.
Following the daily train, maintaining the lightness of self all paid with understanding and patience.
Will I collect matches and rain-checks?

If you sit alone in a dark room, are you dodging delicious fruit or digging the depths of the earth?

If you sit under the moon in a forest, are you avoiding traffic lights or embracing the strings behind the scene that pull up blades of grass?

I will leave with nothing but the clothes on my back.

Labels: artform, experiment, marionette