in the back of my mind some thing flowers
sunlight the horrible
making me feel it making



on the walk the mind becomes a pebble
the pebble a ball of dead flies
oh to be insane on a walk



I say to it
quiet
I say to it
hurry



the flower’s smell
turning the back of my neck



to be walking
to be breathing with others
the sun speaks on my forehead
saying something violent
I can’t translate
saying mmmm