A weekend fragment...
Turn now, listen. This is how it is done. It is not your brand of frivolousness. My fun is serious. A thousand things on my mind you know. Every minute. Thousand different things. You won't understand. It is the types. Your type, my type, other types. Nah, all is not one. All is a thousand things. There are only fragments. Always. In everything. Nothing follows, nothing leads. Law of the land, such crap. Multitudes, also crap. No, not everyone is a loner. Yes, claimers all. It cannot be understood. It is sensing see? What starts, what connects, who you are in thousands of links. A discovery. A disaster. Not saying. Hiding. Showing. Assuming, the original rubbish. Certainty, also rubbish. Wobbling footsteps, splitting headaches. Heart shrouded in mettle. The farce of it all, you think. Such blindness. Yours or mine?
