KZ: drinking in the sounds and sights has left me an enlivened shadow filled with memories; now, to add the colors and textures of life, and the illusion will be complete. Until illusion become reality, and the cycle will be free to restart once more.
KP: The colors and textures were always there, and you could not see them. Elusive. The illusion has always been reality, and the real cycle is your mind from irrational sanity to rational insanity.
sanity to insanity to sanity to insanity - whirling around in the Disney teacups - spinning out of reach of the world - stretching out hands to them, but only glass, all glass, and smears, long bloody smears across the glass - what now?
too much color, and swarms of whirling thoughts, memories - dream, dreaming, dreamt, fall, falling.
We last as long as we live and then we fall fall fall
We last and think as the death of time throws us for loops. Long lost or lasting long or lost so long, but found now? There is a found, or there was a found, who knows if it's still here. Strawberry juice, not blood, on the glass it fooled me. And it tastes sweet so I eat it, but draw glances from the other side. Staring faces, I laugh and wave.
Looping and looping and slooping and sloping again we are falling
Or are we sleeping?
If this is a dream, I have not found your found, but I have found the faces. I am incoherent - hysterical - giddy. I wish to sleep the deep deep sleep of winter. Maybe I should just wipe the bloody pulp off my face and hands. I etch a smiling face onto the red-smeared glass.
I think I have found the paint and the paint brushes. One day, show me where the faces are and I will search for ours. Can we set them loose agin? The sun is lovely and seems to remember itself better when we remember ourselves better. And falling with the sunshine on our sticky scarlet hands and faces is more reminiscent of drifting on dandelions then deadly plunges off the edge of certainty's earthen table.
We last as long as we live and then we fall fall fall.
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