Summer

Saturn strode the moon three times today
and I haven’t even had breakfast
It is practical, yet boring, to do only one thing
I hold my potential collaborators scarf

With a flow like this who needs friends
Back when my limbs were golden, I was lost
I was wild

Trying to move bodies through an idea is a feat
Folding and cutting paper, and scratching notes, is less of a feat

The more you practice something the worse for wear it gets
I could never return to that shirt.
Carefully unsnap and reveal, disentangle
Every fray, spreads
I regarded it as the happiest of my life
Exploring too far down the wrong corridor

Nothing is a failure without a plan
Force yourself to end differently
Compulsory propulsion

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