(Yesterday those habits were thoughts)
What they have noticed and gathered, layer upon layer, is not the lack of close relatives, but the scraped faces in the sentence. And the furniture out of misplaced kindness, which is preserved in negative relief, a kind of external mould. We are not boundaries to begin with. You have been taught that compressions and impressions occur at the same time but you have not learnt it. Yesterday those habits were thoughts. There’s really nothing I can do, but there’s always something I can do. Once grows upward, even across the image they wanted to see, captured by small spaces and sediment. But ever since the cycle began, and probably before, touch is more often dark, because they have asked you not to follow them.