16.02.25
---
Yet once again, the sun shone `pon the veins of man., — except, it hasn't. In fact, it wouldn't.
Not for another tick of beetles in the imaginary mind of my own, shall the sun shine upon the these spaces of creation. And I believe so.
Why would anything rise here, in this, sad, sad space where I lay, but honestly, I wish sometimes for a bag of those imaginations.