every object of desire is a found object

when you wake up there will be no water. when you wake up there will be no grass. when you wake there will be no space. the bridge between your eyes and your mind will collapse. the black dogs are burning in the snow white fire. i cannot care anymore i just float inhaling sparkls and swirls. just sparkls and swirls. the background is brown and yellow. this is my landscape. open and hostile. every stone, every leave is fulfilling my prophecy that everything will move toward a discrete rebellion.

::: traditionally, anyway :::