stepped out of my door to the smell of holiday's stillness and families gathered. i could hear body heat collecting in the living rooms behind every steel door. it is the first sunday of the new year and, like sundays do, lost all time and space as i entered it.

must walk. must walk. brain acquiring too much data, must process with motion. each. foot. step. forces. word. revealed. like lottery numbers, no control was mine. must lighten load. i heard dialogue upon dialogue inside my head and sometimes out loud but usually like songs. must. keep. moving. i walked for three hours inside an invisible shell. i wore a faux fur mongolian hat with hearing flaps unevenly cocked making me look like an animal startled by a distant noise. or whistle. i peered almost aggressively through my smoky clear wrap-around frameless shades as if challenging passers-by to solve my next riddle.
i was a machine.

one thing came clearer to light as i wandered into thoughts of my tokyo seedling of a love. i can see the whole road lay out before me in all of its glorious permutations. i am capable of loving in the ways that inspire scribes, the way i desire require to be loved. if i invest in anything less, i am jacking off my ego. i am wasting precious time.

loving makes love. loving makes itself.
my love for you has no strings attached.
i love you for free. TR

< yeah >