one part dust
one part mud
fill with shadow 
flood

Here we go. Softer and fast, sporadic mine, my mind mine, where did you go now? Only a shake in the background. What are you counting? What are you clicking? No, no, no, you’ve got it wrong, I am only here to keep time. I am only here to give the rhythm to your mind.

On the fifty-fifth day of containment

God’s porridge tasted of ashes and soap.

Last year on Ayahuasca,

he took selfies with a jaguar.