2002-09-12 - 6:17 PM

I have been turning around in circles, making the hollow motions of life. Cleaning up the seepings with a paper towel, one that cannot be wrung out. Meanwhile, I swallow life like large wooden spoons and try pitifully to digest them while burning myself on the sun's surplus, melting to life because it is all any of us really have. Even given this, we cannot count on it. If infinity were just a variable in time and space, how would we measure up? Or would we?