today was a walking hermit through a tall forest shuffling the darker lines of mean. I arrived in this place watching two then three small ants walking the rim of skin laughing at jokes nicer than him. quickly swarming moments vanishing into the sad ones of my mom already sick in her robot voice. still unable to play. still not invited to play. then was shoved like a loud bug into the discourse of someone else’s rhetoric. healing like two poets in pearls humming like locusts in a poplar tree in spring. I used to think these messages were mine and now the loudest of them don’t want to hear me. I can quickly vanish and split pears with these seams.