sei miliardi

onethousand lines interweaving through walls and buildings, crossing and hatching new, speeding slowly to poke holes through bricks as paint crumbles. this is the image that comes to me as i walk off the 75 at piramide. this is all, and maybe it is the effects of a lingering (anthropoclaustrophobic) sense of disorder.

[he bops, he skips, they can't help looking, what are they thinking?]

the country has disappointed me, i refuse to be governed by a human joke.