brewing a stone of momentum

I want to ask you a question?
How slow can you go?
How slow will you go?
For a tangle?
For a soft night, everyday?
For a way of doing things that are unforgettable?
Will you do it seriously.
Serious.
One time I was so mad I died.
I just laid down and died. I was so mad.
I was a somad. A soman. A snowman.
I was published by the ghosts of people who might die in the future.
I mean, they are more likely to die than others, in the future.
I guess the near future. If there is any other kind let me know.
The far future. The far out future. I doubt it.

So obstinate. I just don’t know what story to tell you.
I do it all myself.
I don’t believe in commerce.
But oh I love it so.
I don’t believe in money, but I do believe in restaurants.
Oh my love, I believe in wine bars.
I believe in the saturation of my sensual tolerance.
I believe in my body as the bearer of very expensive and beautiful clothing.
Hello. I believe in shoes.
I believe in escape. And ice cream.