Weightless, as if the sun has burnt

ties, unburnt loving raw connections

giving people the nudge to move stairless climbs into what others might call the impossible resistance to power.

Imponderable, he climbs the insides of the wrong stomach, rounded by taken [almost never given] pleasures.

Ceased to be more than more. Never the same.

Never before, always in the after.

The sun would weigh the lines on human faces. Of those that looked straight in, bowed under its power while slaving the land.

'The sun is only a reminder of what the night might do to the day,' he uttered in the liberating given [not taken] token of the pledge that we're on temporary grounds with every single earthen lock on the very life of his, theirs, hers, mine and yours.

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