When you describe the empires that rise and fall under the watch of the moon, is there no ounce of fear? I am frozen by one who is not ashamed of their inability to move; I am ashamed by my inability to move. There are so many excuses to not enjoy the water in this feud against the moon. Are you afraid of losing air while you swim? Are you afraid of entering the fog? I will teach you the tricks; we pay attention to the organ’s bounce to find our way. Take on a new “I.” I imagine this fantasy logic a poem in your philosophies. Language can be so lush. This eeriness will always remind me of mountains, phrases that sound like fog cover their peaks. Even in games I am afraid; even in games I back down. I read poems and my toes curl around an anxious edge. My stories always end in a hypothetical death. We must find a way to go forward.
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