all i see are sets i might photograph/ it’s insidious/ sweating bullets i would photograph my own tongue/ i have no idea how it is people allow me to talk them into turning their spaces into sets so i can take photographs of we can’t be dragged into all of this oh yes we can/

we can’t we can/ we cannot

you can/ you will/

but we have melted stars to touch/ 

not of how they live lips shut tight as tin cans/ a set is the land of suburbs set into the land of debt/ a mirror goes through the appearance of requiring love/ the rooted stones and bones and the thunder comes/

i want to photograph the insides out of the tin cans/ they live in/ 

all i see are sets i might photograph/ it’s against your murmuring half-starved silence/ to they told me there would be pain/ i would turn your house into suffering/

i would drown the inside of your house with rain and rain and rain/ you must run across the marbled streets and swim the river that runs with blood beside your house/ my photographs are my cups, and then, the covenant between us and then all of them shouting for attention and it is prohibited for your little tragedies to disappear/

to disappear/

 https://tim-barrus.format.com/tim-barrus/238927-i-opened-my-eyes