⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠈⠙⢷⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⢀⠤⠾⣽⣻⡄⠑⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⢠⠞⣠⣄⣽⣯⡷⠢⠄⠀⠀⠀⢀ ⠘⣬⢁⣹⡁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠉⠡⡍ ⠀⠈⠉⠁⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ [recently sleepless, but writing again] seeing the world through smoke, looking back at the future and turning my eye blind to the past, nomadize between post-industrial memory: <em>par fumée</em>, the city-forest-scented, the tree bark growing over the skin of my hands "like a dog returns to its vomit, so a fool repeats their folly." & I’ve been a hundred thousand different mouths; paper and cotton, and plastic gag stuffed; teeth glowing in the sun, and teeth rotten away from their bleeding gums. I’ve been smiles and I’ve been swallowed tears, salty-sweet on my tongue. I’ve been the ever-promise and the lips that broke it. I’ve been real. I’ve reflected sunlight, quivered, I’ve settled as dust over windowsills looking out at the throat of the world. My name’s been stuck on the mouth of the wooden doorway, on doorstep and underneath it, where I sleep. I think my fears into reality; I speak them to me, I speak their names, and I cry when the world turns ugly-mouthed. I’ve existed through the days between. I swallow down, I swallow around. In the darkness and lonely, I am real. & I will find you in the preening corrosion-bend of your neck. There I will meet you.