Branded; howl at the moon

….and so, it is a long time that I stare at the wall. I sit down on the floor and look up 

 and I think about his words how does he do this to me? just when I think ….no, I was just dreaming…. he proves himself ….and another one of his—some kind of mind blower moments and, me, like a moth to a flame …. like a magnetic pull to him his strange innate proclivities are at the exact polar place of all mine that in the middle it is like some exact balance 

I almost fall off the earth and it seems there is …. I stare at the wall and think I think about all the paintings he has put there…. and his quiet …. silent …. way ….of reading me —memorizing my in between the lines that I only attest to as poetry but still my utmost ethically true ….but there he follows ….behind the doorways and I guess if it is worth the tedious but intended misdirections to him then I am more than glad to entertain whatever ideas he has in mind 

So I sit on the floor and think— they are all elan …. the same story…. I look at the celves and think about the fossil I found that day After awhile I get up