photoSTAT six: an owl is an owl is an owl is an homage

the horror of the egg’s paradox comes haunting me again—

The pendulum swings as the sea ebbs as the night beckons as the scientist mistakes his wife for a hat and is treated accordingly, by her family, with disdain, distaste and distress

…Close your eyes, hold your hands over your ears, block your nose; the world hasn’t disappeared; it’s just hiding from any kind of sense…

SPASH SPLASH…Sick of me, even as I become… sick of me, the surf’s coming up… sick of me, dive in and take away what you put in… SPLASH SPLASH

Beyond caring? I didn’t even know we were near it; I didn’t know we were heading that way.

If you had let on that your thoughts were going in that direction then, maybe, I wouldn’t have done what I did or did what I’d done, whichever way it’s said

…Infinite/ Infinitesimal…

and again… micro and macro mirror twin burdens upon each other’s cosmic cloth, trying to wipe away emotion at shoulder-height, but instead smearing endless cheer upon what the world wide view’s windscreen is and, ultimately, can be

Everything is on repeat

The Globe as a whole

The loop in an a

The six degrees of separation I hold so dear

and again… as each time around an aspect— whether the size of a grain or a boulder— is picked up and used as fuel for the filaments of the force that pushes the feeling or clings to the cause creating much more than there was ever before

so, and I feel like I maybe repeating myself here, I go back to the beginning and try, try, try again

keep telling yourself that— its… just… not…real…

polaroid’s made into a flick book of your neighbour’s nefarious deeds

selling souls for loose copper coins so I can play old songs on the jukebox in the corner

the passport photos repeat the victim’s head down in a line

the travelling is travelled by the travellers in a narrative linear time

there are carbon copies of the carriage continuously moving out

we can’t ever go back (on what we’ve done) now that the train has broken down

12 passengers, 12 stab wounds, 12 motives, 12 past lives in which to delve

it’s just a story, it’s just a story, there has been no murder, it’s just a story

there is no meaning behind the number twelve

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