useful contributer

a bleary eyed crowd of you and me with our webcams pointed to the sky  I never knew you
were dying and I always thought I'd be there to smell your smoke. one hundred years is
what I sold and I can never find the buyer. grey pulse colours, a sign of our failed
scans, and I hope that you can see between them (thats where I hid it).

sound drops from above and escapes from the filters that we set up. how disturbing that
we are roused and removed from our comfort pits. if only I had the ability to be mad at
this. sound drops still and my ears reverse their decomposition process. ah, the
stirring of frusteration, we were almost there.

I have a new trick and that is to imagine it as a space that fills with sand. what
could be stronger than a space filled with sand? another person buried in it another
cut out piece of the sky fits like paper in between the grains and its existence is
questionable.

what could I say to convince you? what could I touch to give this back? senses were
considered and left behind. refuse deposited along the roadways from the fleeing
refuges. discarded clothes and a suitcase stretched across all lanes, spilt and dead.
how far ahead are you? I heard that even leaving early was not protection enough.

fallen posts begin to become my skeletal structure and soon enough you will find me
under maintenance as a signpost that can be a useful contributer.