i might resist

cylindrical shapes,
in place, out of the scope,
in vain, we are processing.
deep thoughts, etc. deep 
water, and so on.

anon, so forth
go wild into the
untamed breeze.

blink and

reset. rest, 
this is whatever
you make of it.

my low stakes
scribbles are frivolities
to everyone except
the song of myself
projected from
the sound system
of a sad sounding
school with everything

to gain from opportune
soundwaves.

oh, you'll know it
yet. you'll know me,
soon. this is where
the thoughts go

long after we've
spent their capital.
long after the work
is 

finished.