words across this screening page of pixels man-made,
written for your eyes and stranger eyes and unknown eyes,
written for your ears if you are blind,
please have a loved one read it to you.
in the end, this will be all that you can have of me.
this black against white, or near black against near white,
to be read or unread, to be marked or unmarked,
unvalued or invaluable or carelessly forgotten,
is yours.
i cannot carry it across the water or under land.
i cannot take it with me to somewhere in nowhere,
out of your existence or depth of field,
burned through the years you ceased to recall,
then exhaled by seasonal forgetting.
but here you can love it for a while,
or hate it for a while,
but just for a while.
you won't have it either,
after you breathe.
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