In short; my arms are sore. Annex; Yet, I'm laying folded.


Downward gestures and pulling-up motions, folded over and tied together, clicking mechanisms are, as we speak, reevaluating the demands of movement. Our eyelids are elastic, to pull it up, to create a popping sound, to release the tiny vacuum. Only to blink once or twice to feel the air between ball and lid, again, being pushed away. By that, we gaze upon oneiric landslides containing so-called burnt-out remnants of self-combustion & left synthetics that are conflicting about if this is the right area to count all remaining fibers that need to return to their sleeping state.


Things feel mapped out falsely, so you might feel a nerve twitch. I realized how we are sometimes in need to fold our arms over each other to keep a posture where they might not detach while hanging. This may be the time; to show appreciation for the materialistic constructions that bare and endure our bodies, masses or the weight of our collected clutter. They keep in place, interlinked, in pace and in space. Only to find out that we’re still not advanced eaters when our molars scrape the inside walls. Yet we keep chewing at the same speed. Or that our joints might decline in fricative overtime resulting in bodily erosion. Yet it can be ignored if desired. If you want it. But not too long. Then let your tongue rest between these glazed barriers in that warm chamber. And keep things sealed if that feels comfortable.


But do not conform to the already given parameters that set the condition, as you might just get as stained by them as by the previous one. To massage your calf muscles in a circular motion, because you have been standing for too long, trying to touch the fac╠žade without reliance on others.