sometimes, my arms are too long, they reach a little to far into places, and they come back with things i never should have held

it's like i don't see the reach of my eyelashes. i don't know the range of my hearing. and they don't know the power of my voice

i have some speed issues. with how you move between frames in the frame buffer. with how you stream from one moment to the next. i can be a dangerous creature anyway but i have to work around it, i have to think about it so i can keep a constant workaround.
my teeth are free, i can use them however i like.
my itches and my scars...
i give you my RAM. i give you room to bloom...

i can feel,, it. in my gut there's a hole and with each heartbeet it expands. i bleed maybe on the ground about me, maybe on my hands, maybe not at all. it is a growing concern that there is an animal inside, exploiting the state of things for it's own annoying, if not nefarious, gain. i'm in the dark regarding this thing. there are too many variables and i cannot trust my eyes. they show me what i feel, not what i see... i use my fingers to check on my hole and i can't help but think that this whole world is going, it is as sick as i am, but with a more galactic disease. as below, so above.

in my mind i search for dragons, or beings that might be regarded as dragons if you have some imagination. which im not sure i have, but it's my only lead. in these times and lands i dont have much choice anyway, it's eat what you find and hope that you find more. my body needs a lot of things these days, and it's getting hard to control. better to let go for a few hours...

i could be on an island. i travel, in a way, to an island of my choice. it's very small, a few meters across, sand dune basically in the carribeans. it is mid day and i'm feeling fucked up, but it's a cozy fucked up. my hair is messy and i feel hot. maybe i have a drink, maybe it's this drink (finland dricka) and maybe i'm listening to this song (svampå bomb)....

it's good and it's bad, you know. but even the bad is better than what the eyes relay. as i said, i shut them out. i recite an old mantra... "the default shell in debian is bash. the default shell in os x is bash. the lake will freeze over. the bridge will remain." since i'm an island dweller on an island with the only natural resource of sand, i do not know what this means since i've never owned a computer (but being the protagonist of the story, later it will turn out i have a psychic bond with electrons, being able to manipulate any electric device on a whim). the rhyme makes me feel safe. things are still as sane as my recitation. the words and their meanings are still correct.
the reality check is an old family heirloom, i've been taught it as the 43rd direct descending owner of the island. in my family we carry a lot of virtual heirlooms with an incredible amount of semantic content. the name of all of them together spell the meandering of the sand. the name of all of them backwards spell the thrashing of the waves against my feet. the first letter of every necklace in alphabetic order is the name of all the islands when they rise from the waters as one. in the end, i see my mothers name and mine.

my destiny is like a dog at my legs. i don't believe in leashes and neither does my dog... my memory is impaired and the dog knows why and what's up ;) it can take me home. i have one second of available memory. my camera goes very high speed and the analytical engines are nefarious, all my energy in an instant, all the time,.,.,.,. i mean, anyway, i remember i'm on the island and none of this matters. my destiny isn't even real, i made it up and it's a dog.

i still have some kind of affinity for a future, i have beet root speach, i have the kiss of a god on my fingertips as they move against the earth, another one, another you,

the god allows me to make more idols to worship, a file on the desktop, a file in the enderchest, a file in the freezer, a file in the meaty hole in my gut,
instructions for my future is encoded in realtime in these files and i read them in hindsight, then i understand a few seconds later
i understand how this looks, i'm halfway to the crossing, in my mind i need to go to the shorter side of the man made mountain, there's a cliff...
not far from my house they all, i mean, the municipality have a dumping ground for earths, for worms and slithereens. a. for things they do not necessarily need right here right now. and in the knee behind the red eye i shall lay on my back and i should look at the trees and think about what i've done
it's the sound of meeting someone on the subway and facing them, pulling their eyes from their sockets and extending the shards of their iris toward yours, like a spacetime tunnel with symmetrical slopes, well, it's a conduit for mental communication, it's a hill you'll have a hard time to cross. it's the pain in your bones. it's the sour piece of eight of coca cola. and there's a whole world between you on the subway.
k o n s t i g a    d j u r   ä d l a r    n å g o n   s o r t s   j o r d
j a g   h a r   m i n n e n   a v   r ö t t e r   o c h   b e t o r
o c h   g n a t o r
m i n a   t ä n d e r   h a r   s l i p a t s   p å   m u l l e n s   s t e n
m i n a   k l o r   h a r   v ä s s a t s   p å   r ö d   g r a n i t
time's 01:33 now,,, milk is pouring from my brain wounds, around me you my animals are drinking from the juice, i have money on the debit card and two hours to get to the hamburger place space

anyway, home at last, i've devoured various opportunities to various blankets, it's like a rain of time shares except they're for parts of my bodies and skins
about me are the other inhabitants and they're all talking about how the building was nicer in the 90's, how it really didn't hold up under stress all these years, how their blue metallic cabs looked better before when the stairs to the balconies where freshly painted, some kind of pink if i recall right