Feelings cuz they count What am I to do with the fact, or idea that I am a radioactive goose having been calling home too long the fizzy lake waters of my not doing what I mean, I am literally a bird, a goose and I live on a body of water which has been changed in ways in which I did not play any part. I need the water to live.

Now, I can honk my own special song out into the wilderness passage where measurements are not measured by any similarities between form or experienced amount, but shift refractedly and shatter into dark recesses of agitational, periodic self-awareness out to where the honk goes, an acausal appropriation. Should I hope that my honk can be heard?

Having been poisoned in ways unknown, I do believe that some one, some thing, perhaps the polluters themselves will bear witness to the darting sound out shot sound particle net, I sent to catch my self-identity. How can I know the lake again, if the sounds I make are not understood? I leave when it gets to cold, I do things in certain ways.  ¶ 2:33 PM