none of it matters. it's all nice and pretty but it doesn't ever really matter. not the blues or blacks. the fat eye bug bite. the poor night's sleep. the gorgeous mountain gorillas with eyes always looking and waiting.

and all the big people with big things to say and do. puffed up loons with nowhere to go.

i want to dive. swim to the sun.

yes. it's dragging. september's coming in like a widow. dark and sad wearing a trail of longing. always for a better day. better than what? who knows, who knows.

it's as low as the head on the door.