nourish me

i think about the grieving lecturer (the figure that appears in my dreams) now and i think of the deception employed by dreams, a hood of ignorance. dreaming stimulates a yearning almost like attraction but not. it is more sullen, deeper, and more consolidation than uprising. can’t help but think of their nature, the nature of dreams, and not so much think but appreciate because there can never be answers, just my pretty little appraisal and desire to re-enact, though the cautious play of living is my dream, depressing as this is.

i am i, cooking by gas and become distracted, although i shouldn’t i do; i am not good with fire. it is hard not to become endeared to the hob though, cooking upon the amorous blue flame which nibbles tenderly at the edges of the pan, within which circles form, invisible then visible, as i hold the cup and wait for coffee.

now and now, dredging the minutes for distractions, valuable resonance, a memory, or rather something to remember but there is nothing here but here, and i suppose that we all understand ourselves better at the quiet times, not doing being as important as doing because the purpose is always hidden.

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