maryrosamund
the back of her head while she thinks about I certainly hope god knows what. That being, the idea of conscious presence, what I'm really, really wishing for, at a constant. Because when there's just the one of me, everything is funny, and deep and light and odd as fiddlesticks. Ahhhhhh. So relaxing to watch her think of everything but me. Like if I were built into the walls, or one single stone embedded in the mountain of her singular vivid memory. Maybe she will dream of me, and what will be the great appearance? My puzzle, disguise, ruse or code? But to dream of her is what I really hope. What my mind needs to decompose next. While these eyes are blasting wide in the reoccuring dream of webs. The dream that has a constant. Constant. Constant. Salute!
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constantdreamhopeheadcertainlygodideaconsciouspresencewishingfunnydeeplightoddfiddlesticksahhhhhh