The other day I saw a fly. Dipped his wings in alibi, he turned to me and said “Who are you now?” So I just waited.
Answers are like gravity. If I just didn’t speak I’d fly. Yet keeping my mouth shut is harder than the sidewalk itself, and I am free to repeat my memories. Thus I am free to repeat my memories. Thus I am free.
The other day I saw a mouse, building home from sentence structures and other grammatical compounds. All he seemed to do was iterate without remorse or denial, how unformal. The universe waits in nonsense, only we can put her pieces back together and redefine what it means to be knowledgeable. The mouse was ignorant of my presence, yet somehow I knew he could taste my mental state without his even knowing. I tried to make him trip. I tried to make him fall. The taste was on my lips. The other day I saw a wall.