Memory sizing.

How does a memory fit in a momentarily available cloud?
which part of its greyness do you relate with?
how much of its capacity can fill you?
its getting late
but i don't mind
we're all clouds
condensed
conspicuous
[constipated and undefined].
keep on being pushed,
sometimes covering the sun on the physical
other times spreading our limbs in the sky's peripheral
depending on the acceptance
we lay upon existence.
jumping on that same spot in the carousel
which has those little paddle things
that appear every single time it decides to kick-start
although often its just better to go with the flow the machine imparts
its getting late, and i'd rather think about movement than negotiate with morals
i want to see that pink line with my closed eyelids
that expresses that I'm a cloud, but with big ass ribs.
when it gets too windy,
my heart flies straight out of my pretentious rib cage
wanting to disengage
and perform a carousel of its own
away from the despairs of the known and the unknown.
away from the singularity of a single throne
away from the tone of a weighted stone.


/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\\/\/\\\\\\/\
Off to a world agone.

We don't actually get wet when it rains.
I want you to touch yourself
I want you to tell me about your veins.


[a vein: a fracture in rock containing a deposit of minerals or ore and typically having an extensive course underground.]