dust battles in the asthmatica primes

my journey through the clogged corridors continues.

i have had some narrow escapes from croomb’s nasty iron toast. it never gets old with that beast.
i am not as strong as i once was, and so, i have to – i must keep note of my atrophy.
i have no problem acknowledging it, but to right myself in the way i must, i have to keep it in mind.
it is not something so easily thought away.

my skills and ability to wield them are strong, but they are somewhat undermined by that same atrophy; perhaps “diminished” is a better word.
but i feel stronger all the time. brighter. i continue.

croomb is an unrelenting creature however. and so i have to keep my momentum at high levels. even when i am stronger it will require great integrity on my part to keep it in that quilted state of befuddlement that i’ve been able to manage.

let’s hope the sooch doesn’t show up anytime soon.

fallen drawers

into the layers of mattress and pillte posumae we dived. mattress batting us about the knob; falling, falling. where does it stop?
the philtered light comes from around, no source discovered no matter found. but we fall to it, all abound. astounded that we can be in this falling state, amoung bedded wares and nightdream bares.

and with a swipe or two of our cottong-knit seems we land to the bottom of a fiber-mill stream.