a real and raging rush of words and thoughts of emotions felt in a new and next to normal way -

nevermore a time of simplicity and lack of confusion;

names are words and nouns are words and worlds of words no longer words that ears accept with love and light laughs, with acceptance and a familiar face.

eyes are not eyes and faces are not faces bodies bodies bodies wrong and wrought in solid liquid lies;

with liquid lies come solid sighs, amazed awareness of the condition and of the state of our state -

the taste of rain as the reigning taste is no longer pleasant when April lasts all year after year after.

the hands that feel the hills that form the land from which we don’t descend -

the fingers that pull and prod and push to pretend to understand the meaning of our damnation.