starflowers and sunfish and vicodin. deep in these, i breathe away the hours. the days. the years. twisting in the breeze, warm and wrapped in damp gauze. the blood seas lap against the edges. sealed with tape i wait and drift and dream and bleed. sticky sweet stars appear in the white gauze sky. high. so high above me. the satellites rearrange programs and search. recalculate and search. scan me and search some more. i feel science draining out of my every pore. i smell series after series of random numbers evaporate as they rise off my sleeping form. i stink of calculated chaos. i stink of starflowers and sunfish and vicodin. i switch on. i switch off. i stutter inbetween and smile. laying on the floor of the factory. waiting for the next darklandfactorywork to gel. waiting to rip off the bandages and see. so much to see, so much to do, so much more to dream.
i am happy here. alone. wrapped and damp and sticking of science. manipulating the manipulation that has become my life. the mirror laughs and slides down the sky into a field of starflowers and sunfish and vicodin. and it starts to rain. i am standing on a beach. slowly i begin to spin. the gauze slowly undoing. unraveling. i am undone. arms upstretched and spinning. i am a starflower. i am a sunfish. i am a vicodin. i am a painkiller. fleeting and forgotten. i swirl and whirl and spin. smiling and compiling and realigning the orbit. reeling and unpeeling and no longer feeling. alone.