Let me teach you about space
It doesn’t really exist. We create it with our negations, our persistent moralities, our watches, walls of facts and other useless foolishness.
Our need for being naked keeps us busy, sewing clothes. Costumes that don’t quite fit our unique humiliations; just as being light keeps us nervously gathering weight, collecting stones which won’t sink the water of who we are not matter how carefully we crush or build a life.
Swallowing litanies, drinking bitterness, pissing out cherished vanities
In the end, we’ll wear each others faces gladly, sun and moon.
We are always together and where we are is here; inside one another, dangerous in our forgetting.