float float float float float float, tear & sink

why can you make me cry? no, no, of course you don't make me do anything. but why do my heads stuff up with tear balloons at you, sometimes. it isn't you, I know. I haven't ever met you. so why. it's not a question. I have thoughts of you, I fill them with those float-making gases. we all know I am a gasballoon, I shove it out into space. I am actually really sorry, in a nonapologetic way. I think it is called pity. do my tear wells come out with pity pies for you, then? maybe I have pitied you all along. pity has never been an act of love. I have never loved you. I will always love you. which is true, is it both true. this isn't questions. am I an empathetic one? am I sympathy for only finally but me. I am truly sorry. I wish I could touch you all the way down. I wish I could explain how I wish I could understand. I wish I could be there in the deep part to understand someone else. I am understanding of me. I want to share it, understanding can be an infinite thing, no? well, that is definitely not a question. but I am sorry, for you. I think you are better than you think you are, better than you think I think you are, but you don't think of me at all but how would I know? this is no question. I ask a lot of questions, don't I. that wasn't really one. I ask a lot of questions at the wind and they won't answer back at me. so there aren't any, it's like I wasted the wind trying to get something back from a wind that's gone long before I've sent anything out in it. it's dispersed invisible before it even hits the dispersed invisible, you know? you don't know, so there's no question in that. be okay, please, I do think so, I do want it to be like that for you. I hope you get out of there & in something else. a hope is a sort of question. a hope is a gassy balloon. hope is for the clouds & we live in there. or I do. I'd ask if you do, but you aren't answers at all. only finally but stop making me cry. you can't make me do anything. you are a free country

let's be humans

drop me off
who really figured out the earth isn't a plane
I mean, it's plains
but I don't know
I mean, it wasn't columbus in his three speedboats, I mean of course before he got his boats
christopher columbus was going along in his three boats
with his slaves
when he discovered that the people whose land he'd discovered
were also darker than he
so they could be his slaves, too
#extraslaves
drop me off
the flat plain earth
so I can float in space
upsidedownless
rightsideupless
bodiless, totally Mister Onlymind, here
     Cassavetes & Bergman & Fassbinder etc made a lot of films
in which the losing of one's mind, or the journey into a woman's spangled neurosis, is chronicled
  I've always loved watching stuff like that
watching someone crumble into the mind-abyss
lose a self in another, or a loss, or an absense or something emptier than that
it puts it into perspective
because I sometimes feel like I'm teetering on the edge
of some similar plains
just wondering if I'll ever tumble
but we've to remember that we're just human beings, here
like columbus
like his captivated
like Cassavetes & Bergman & Fassbinder
we're just rediscovering what's never been discovered by us
or discovering what has been, already
traipsing the sinews of a brokenmind
floating on the new eternal sea
or in new eternal space
to find someone with whom to hold hands
to clutch on tenderly
till the infinite brings us round again