Arthur,
he was bad
at making his bed,
the only thing he had
to do. Even his evolution
endowed him the talent to
weave his needs together,
threading ledges closer
with the stability of
a linear path.
But no,
his bed resembled
a shattered floor tile instead,
laying nights over months to pave
an unpassable hallway. It wasn’t enough
to know how to repeat patterns until
they provided the shape of home.
He expected ............................ an aegis
to appear first, so he waited
in silence until boredom
drew his knees to
failure, fluid
with the flavor of a foul honey
administered to an ignorant creature.
The intaken honey subdued uncertainty,
not the thing he truly desired ............................ to be
safe in the cradle of any orderly context,
all lines converging at the contact of
his body, his body confirmed
by the closeness of others,
yes, loved forever
in his web.
But no,
his bed rests
in development, laying
nights over months until
sick of ...................... home
he seeks construct
ions of dysfunct
i on with out
his wits
Ha
Hot Foul
Remedy Fuck
on floors in short amber
waves sleeping away he gets
sick ........ once again unsure
of the saccharine traps
he intended to take
for distractions
increase
with
o ut
caution
tiles pile on
pylons of com
munication coming
down sunrise up sunset
sleeping a wake he gets
sick once ............ to be
enough laughing at
his absent spiral
too honey
high to
differ
enti
ate
his
home
from the
horrifying
white lines
white lines
white ... lines
wh ........ ite lines
white lin ........ es
w ....... hi ....... te line . s
w hite . line .... s
white li . nes
white lines
............................. lines
white lines
white,