It was like, sneaking in and out of the blades of grass, the front yard creatures glowing and shrinking
I am never going to come down from the roof, I like the texture of the ground and the fact that the ground had no wall or ceiling. I cant see very much from where I’m sitting, I like it up here because of how much I can’t see. Reminds me of the sand dunes …. But I feel so torn. I am without my usual stimulators. Pleasure receptors numb from anticipation. A memory capsule explodes. Beat of the passing streetlamps, a scented melody, something like the city after it rains, but fresher sine it was still cold. There was tension, but not the negative type of tension, tension of the collected fantasy and the thought expressions in my mind, mental artistry. Where each image sequence is repeated, but with every new loop there is added a layer. Maybe a mood layer or a chronological layer or a character layer. But I’m scared and my layers have fallen through I cant be anywhere else but the roof. I used to be able to watch and now I am immersed in performance, decisions being made of importance, objectives and goals and reason and truth.
Mechanics and grammar and style mistook. I can’t be anywhere else but the roof. Which may be alright because the streets are flooding