border prism, part 2

Because of a divine hand he’s bigger. And a hand which, and if, in relation to someone bigger than him, was so big as a divine hand, a hand to be diving, dusted him, which, in relation to him was the world, he’d be so okay, big with that, as to be diving through.

They’d probably dust him off, fight the world back, just like he’d be okay. He expects ants with that, though, to fight back. They’d probably fight, and they do. Back just occasionally, like he expects, biting his hand. But ants fight, he doesn’t.

Back, and they mind, just like they do, occasionally biting god, who wouldn’t mind his hand, but the ants are also mind, alien, just like god, distractions. They wouldn’t mind, from out of his spite, there. But the ants, below, he can’t keep, are also them, alien, just off, distractions from bits of unconsciousness out there, or below, uncertainty invading.

He can’t keep the consciousness of them off bits of his screen, unconscious uncertainty invading memories, dissatisfactions. His costume screens the consciousness of his consciousness. From his opening he doesn’t participate onto the world. Simply he stands back, observes.

The world opening on television doesn’t participate simply inside his body. The inside observes a world as a costume. But on television he’s removed and he’s inside his body, above it somehow, like from the inside of a somewhere, remote. He doesn’t costume, removed and above, doesn’t think about it somehow. From it, the world creeps somewhere into his remote screen. It overcomes but he brushes it, the world, off, but it creeps into his screen. Texas overcomes, is full of his screen, but the ants, huge, he brushes onto the ground.

He just doesn’t notice a part of his life. And Texas is full of, has to deal with, ants. It’s in the ground, huge, but he ignores it when the ant mounds just come as a part of life, into the screen. He’ll have to deal with it but panics for a second. Takes it. Ignores it deep. But when the ants’ breath keeps coming into his breathing, into the screen, he slowly panics, letting air, for a second, take, fill his lungs, expanding a deep breath. His chest keeps his diaphragm breathing slowly, he’s just letting air, eaten, fill his old tuna lung, expanding his brown chest, his banana, his diaphragm.

No matter how he gets the tuna, he’s just old, eating bananas. They don’t spoil and old brown bananas can be preserved, no matter how old, for a long banana time. Tuna gets them so they don’t spoil on the shelf, both of them, for ages. Tuna admires both on the shelf for their ages, their cheap longevity, prepackaged lack of aluminum.

Decay, like commitment, admires people not for their longevity but their lack of decay. They grow old but shouldn’t spoil. Commitment also signifies people whose ignorance of corruption grows old, but thinks corruption shouldn’t spoil, which also signifies their ignorance of the banana. Corruption thinks corruption but doesn’t mean anything, is like the brownness, really spoiled, of the banana, just a part of life. It just doesn’t mean.

To accept anything is to move on, really. Spoiled, life moves, just a part of life, past, under, the screen, just like the landscape accepts, goes under, then moves on. Life screens his eye, moves past his consciousness, under it. The screen hovers like a landscape above the map where the yellow line of his eye goes, extends parts of him around the eye. The landscape above the state, the yellow above the ground, a line, goes, observing the eye, extends parts of the landscape to him above, around the state, above it. A landscape, the ground, is a face or its observing eye.

As consciousness of the landscape, the gaze above or behind it, the sky pulls the landscape up, its face out of the ground. The sky surrounds it, is its consciousness. The gaze or mind behind the sky and the body pulls up out of split ground at the horizon. He inhabits the sky, surrounding mind. Above, his yellow body splits the line which borders the horizon and arms the state he inhabits.

(to part 1)