Rounded doodlin'
Tears corroding the arroyos of the canyonsides like rain. Rain incinerating the magmic heart of the earth. All one can do is make a gift of oneself, a meager mound of earth in which one can lay one’s corpse, become some slime for the soil, a goo, a gluey goop. Great compost heap of the universe! To be eternally eroding, like a universe; our infinitesimal speck in a nondescript backwater of a random galaxy. Just us and this guttering love.