all baby birds

Look, there are a milion things to say, maybe even more, one never knows with my mind and the way it works (functions, operates, synonyms). It's a compliment and a blessing and a curse to be constantly confused. Always wondering (wandering) (lost) and there is no escape from it. There is light, windows, there is sunshine. Love begets love and all begets all, everything splattered in the sidewalk like a body thrown from a tower. The sun is spilling itself, commiting suicide from the top of every building to be covering the streets. We can smell it, feel it in the air, us and our magical prowess. We can feel everything in the air, now. Everything is soft and fragile when it flies, and I must be particularly careful of all baby birds. There is nothing more on that subject but there are more subjects than there are words which makes all this living business rather difficult. Let's just swim in the confusion to maybe balance everything out. Maybe we should just take really long naps every night because, as we know, I cannot cross my t's all the time, and when I remember I am happy. And when the letters can't match up, the words refuse to, too, and maybe we all just need a little more dreaming sleep to clear our heads like the sand. All images make one beauty.

(there is some crap in there, but also some cool stuff.
just me writing down all my thoughts for a minute or two-ish)

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