Knock into me. Leave marks of talking in twists of tales. Stand by me in defiance of sight. The music of movements will release silhouettes into movies of time. Walk ahead of footsteps. Patterned prints with residue will carry me whole as we sail into each other with grasping methods.

Paralysis of sights and sounds permit entry of truth and fear. The flailing objects can hit so daintily on spaces of conflict. Pictures of times that hurt appear with soothing balm of whispery fondling.

The passages are always prepared for flights to known parts of recalls.

When we reach the soft landing, resting in motion becomes the slayer of eternity.

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