But I’d rather gaze at stars, you too?
It’s funny how we relate in that way.
Shall I jump to abyss? Be abysmal?
Fuck this? Fuck that? End of the world…
ruins.. rubble.. on the beach.. the
sand suggests the Sun is setting..
there is drift wood..

Even this language suggests
an ethos/logos/pathos/migos
of individuality.

Although ironically
migos is a group.

Ahem, even with images
of red balloons, all I see
is individual.

One soul here, one there.

When will it end?

The one road to the one mountain,
where, when I am at the top
I may see one star.

That I call a star but I
know deeply it is a plane.

Flying, all vroom vroom and
skrrt skrrt.