The Unrequited Passion of Patience, Not Required

dear us,


wake up. take a minute to acquaint yourself with your surroundings. once you realize where you are, feel free to mix your words. take the time to hold your tongue between alternating cheeks, and push phrases through the tiny spaces between your teeth. spit them into the sink, bathtub, or toilet. consider the consequences of each option, but not for too long. you don't have forever. the choice is yours, and yours alone to make. scrub yesterday's dirt from your skin. clean your fingernails. stand in front of the mirror and think for a minute about everything you've ever forgotten to do in your life. ask yourself of your shortcomings, but you needn't dwell on this for too long. you still don't have much time. if you don't move fast, you might forget how to walk. move back to your room and put your socks on. promptly leave your house, even if you really don't want to or can't find a reason. do this because it is the most subversive thing you can possibly do. oh, wait! you're not wearing shoes.

nice to see what you saw in the same light of the same time and place. nice to see in general. if i couldn't see, how could i know we're different?

breathing fast in bedroom. the bauhaus art of bad timing. a skill to be acquired, a taste to be rejected, a place to be forgotten, and a name that doesn't suit you.

would your really call this a phantom? one that plagues you? did we really consider each factor in it's own right? do we really know what we're doing? is this really a narrative? is this supposed to make any sense? should we read it again, only thins time more slowly? should we call our mothers and beg for mercy? for twenty dollars to help pay the rent?


this land is your land! this land is my land! a land of passive collectivism and unrequited love. a land that can only be yours if you take it by force.