Forth Backstroke

It’s nice to go back and forth. To see what you saw. A sort of memory memorialization, an epitaph graph, dead thoughts shivering in liminal time. Each phrase deepens the maze; a labyrinthine journey to the center of earth’s mirth this is not. Defining foment burbles on the tip of the moment, exuberant, effervescent. A decolonial ant listens to land rather than fences. As such, much dichotomy ado may mount nothing hill and see a happy downward future. Sisyphus playing Godot in the Beckett. Abstruse references footnoted parenthetically, where the feet are the arms and vices versus ataraxia. Eudaemonic valleys clutch vigil to restful chests abreast of preposition delta, where the shiver meets the breeze. You are brackish and therefore thirsty.