((((((((((((((layers

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Each layer’s to unpeel

a flesh Russian doll—ready?

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

It is so very hard to stop things after they have been put in motion

and science textbooks tell me the universe has been in motion for a very long time.

→→→→→→→→→→→→→→→→→→→→→→→→→→→→→→→→→→→

Really the only thing I see changing a lot is myself and maybe the leaves when they turn beautiful then wiltwirl down in the fall so the earth can eat them back up again. I wonder how asphalt eats leaves and why our streets can’t be covered in millions of fallbright leaves all throughout the yearlong day→

((probably because it would look too nice and people in the space between the city and the forest would stop wanting to move to the city and start stripping and skipping into the forest and would ride deer or fat squirrels instead of cars and there would be no park rangers or signs telling us what and what not to do with fires so it would just be one big marshmallow roast, that’s what I think, or something to do with sewer drainage))

ØØØØØØØØØØØØØØØØØØØØØØØØØØØØØØØØØØØØØØØØØØØØØØØØØØØØØØØØØØ

It’s nice when the sky looks like a Screensaver, makes me feel at home. I can even shake my head all I want and it’ll never go away. Whoosh.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

I don’t hate it when the wind feels like insects on my leg-hair—I just feel flattered my brain would think anyone would want to sit there.

♀♂♀♂♀♂♀♂♀♂♀♂♀♂♀♂♀♂♀♂♀♂♀♂♀♂♀♂♀♂♀♂♀♂♀♂♀♂♀♂♀♂♀

Kinda disappointed I always gotta wear my skin, like a quilt. I’d hang it to harden on a bedpost before my dreams, eyelids too. There’s nothing you don’t see plunged into hot dreams like an egg@incup of boiling(!) ramen.

⌂⌂⌂⌂⌂⌂⌂⌂⌂⌂⌂⌂⌂⌂⌂⌂⌂⌂⌂⌂⌂⌂⌂⌂⌂⌂⌂⌂⌂⌂⌂⌂⌂⌂⌂⌂⌂

Sittin’ Watchin’ peoples & boots & leaves exploding. Right now I’m glad I have a skin. November. Wouldn’t mind a coat either.

☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾

Sun nuzzles into horizonclouds as hearthstone for one perfect moment the sky aglow a’blazes, cascading pincrimsons, then all pale postcoitalisms.

Ϛ Ϛ Ϛ Ϛ Ϛ Ϛ Ϛ Ϛ Ϛ Ϛ Ϛ Ϛ Ϛ Ϛ Ϛ Ϛ Ϛ Ϛ Ϛ Ϛ Ϛ Ϛ Ϛ Ϛ Ϛ Ϛ Ϛ

If you found the right speed you could live perpetual sunset.

/^^^^^

≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈

Whenever I do or don’t want to interact with people I just stare at them for a long time—it works either way.

(o >o)░(ovo)░(o< o)░░░(o >o)░(ovo)░(o< o)░░░(o >o)░(ovo)░(o< o)

It even works when they stare back.

ØØØØØØØØØØØØØØØØØØØØØØØØØØØØØØØØØØØØØØØØØØØØØØØØØØØØØØØØØØ

What I want to say is it’s hard to write on cold nights even if your words are on fire. I have a special pen where the ink is gasoline and if you’ve got a spark you can read what’s written once. I lied. What I want to say is it’s not a pen, it’s my life. I lied again, and you know I lied, because if my blood were oil all I’d ever eat were matches.

ÞÞÞ ÞÞÞ ÞÞÞ ÞÞÞ ÞÞÞ ÞÞÞ ÞÞÞ ÞÞÞ ÞÞÞ ÞÞÞ ÞÞÞ ÞÞÞ ÞÞÞ ÞÞÞ ÞÞÞ ÞÞÞ

I know I won’t live forever but it’s all I’ve known my whole life and I’ve been alive more times than the sun has risen and set so

hope you understand my confusion.

↓↓↓↓↓↓↓↓↓↓↓↓↓↓↓↓↓↓↓↓↓↓↓↓↓↓↓↓↓↓↓↓↓↓↓

I bet you thought I would say I feel like a leaf dangling on the branch of a tree, and the wind has just started to pick up, and I am ready to fall,

so I will, and

well I do, and

I am.

The Author

Roland Barthes has killed Max Miroff. Nevertheless, the latter studies, eats, sleeps, and checks the underside of his bed for the theory monsters. He’s pursuing an unspecified degree at the College of William & Mary. You can find more of his online innards here: www.maxmiroff.com

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