There are these visceral moments of scatteration when I feel my thoughts ooze out of my ears and slice my limbs a part. I slide around in a mess of doubt and confusion trying to figure out when what goes where. Then I slowly pick myself up with a perceived goal, it is a thread that I can sew myself back together with. But then this thread shows to be too short or too thin and I don’t get fully assembled or I quickly or slowly fall apart again. Just to repeat the process. That was summer.
That Was Summer