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Forward forward who said that—[?] who crossed, by way of will, as if then thinking fades into movement—[fast] in it’s own shade, shifts out of itself, into place of thinking “my two cents” pulling the door, opens itself to a road—[surface]—driving over someone we once knew, someone now—[horizontal]—walking to make that mean “it’s still dark” in, when someone is on the meaning—[sound]—the moment the person leaves it’s own voice & how doesn’t this splice space—[line]—might space this will in car—[fast]—over the middle section of someone we once knew, meaning exactly, it presents itself to someone’s else’s mouth in terror—[portrait]—no longer forward, having driven away, dividing such a being in of somewhere else been, traveling on the EL, with eyes closed, what body would be a mouth, a rear of silence, under the wheels of this car was, someone we once knew—[?]
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This Means whose to back now, back to the Body flying in the air—[?] who is the happening to this, whose image, whose object is now driving the nail into the meaning of this, I’m constructing a world—[?] The Body in question, against a reading of what it feels to think this pain is just how, I’m just Body now lipping a slipping away. This meaning, looks mean this following this means I’m appearing to be down, thumping someone’s Body, under the Sun, how the Skin, signs to touch close to this listening world or, an impulse to continue “how do you spells” I’m appearing in feeling, down” is the silence of the mind itself encompassing the thought of someone we once knew, saddening to place itself in a Space
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Thus Walking into a Door, erupts the desire to retrace one’s steps, to count, what it means to back against what one thought thinking “I’m aghast in Sight” how, to stop, would be to lay hold to encompass this room. Who, in sees, this Door means that meaning “how I stumbled into a Person” or, how one walks the other way, isn’t crossing into an opposite meaning. How stop, be having, I compass a room. How stop, be playing again to dim. How stop, is putting a finger on the mounting of traffic. How stop, turns this all into a Gas.
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Someone who is sinking, like an image of how “without Sound, I eared an Image” might drive, this Home, as wearing oneself out, talking on terms of the Body, crumps upon that Body—[twice]—turned shittier, to the Side, meaning “If I spoke of such a movement” might pressure someone—[depending]—if trampled against this “I meant to speak of a person” as in, a sad sound, who is surely going to Hang, meaning “I dress” that speaking out of an object, world in deterioration, was the hell of a momentum, containing someone, moving forward to the door, opening, a description meaning, some Body is surely going to fucking Hang
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It is the light which erases, being watched one having—[thinks]—the other look, in the room, is a glance of doom—[sleeping] so as to arrive, across the space, might read “traveling else, I’m thinking to down” calling on eye, traffics this stranger, meaning listening to the one in Head, is one giving Head—[falls]—to reflect, towards a way of being spoken, on the Other, means as if “I’m far away” thinking of someone we once knew, maybe thus, to drive over another sound—[Body]—waking to the company is who, is the volume sheer Volume of being trapped under the trample—[feeling]—I’m meaning how to turn this pain around, leaning on one’s Face, the now as far, as whose line, heard—[horizontal]—the Body, turned heading into the Room, heading to Private—[thought]—reflected, this forward, forward to anywhere in Time, to the Word, how closed a now this fucking Message closed.
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This, is about someone wanting to be restrained, meaning “You” becomes a hard-on of thinking how to articulate to be a sad objection in this World
