is this a system we're living in. seems more like a concretion. cold concrete indifference crumbling. i woke up hard sorry. i haven't been this inside this inside long inside this forever for this long. i feel the cold outside impinging. feel my skin forever molting. i'm an animal stuck inside a system trying to routinely cast off parts of my body. for a body like an animal in a system doesn't know how to act. the system acts for the body the animal. the system acts like denial, unviability, inanimate animal, anima, impractical skin, physically unfitted, ghostmaker machine.
i was rude to r. walked by like in a dream i didn't think she'd notice me like in a dream perhaps i was just hard woke up hard. scared in the kitchen weak flesh ghost flesh scared of my own skin. a new little crack in my palm. if this is a system it feels like more. than a polarized vortex. this brutal weather is only a temperature a wind we've created moving among buildings like displaced animals, wild. we've got so tame we're dying. the system is a continual assault. war by any name. anonyme. anima. if i was back there i'd be in a waiting room. conscious of the un. i'd be saying to my cluttered objects i'm not really live am i, i'm like you, i've gathered my stuff like you here waiting, talking to my objects like you like one of them all the parts of a life, all the parts of me scattered precariously in one place.
                                                                           
                                                                           ***
 What is a system, at its core, if not the sentences that write and, hence, build it?”
—George Abraham