and_as_it_is Doar my eyelids are stuck upon a hurtful memory, I will them to sleep, but they will not stop weeping. I will be blind when thewall hitls too me, I will be deaf as the collapse happens. I could have tried harder to understand, I should have swung my arm backwards. These words before me offer the mending I only see in a round-a-bout way. but the silence is always at my hand, always at my hand. I have maps to where I should go, confused, as they made them, and yet I follow them, confused as they are. Store your paper, and pictures, and weavings. They mean everything to such that cannot deal with riches. watch the man watch the dark suit, as he talks himself into darkness. And the sweeper cleans behind him. . 070820 what's it to you? who go blather from