Counters

These things come in rows and columns and dots that emerge when your eyes have gone askew from these Cartesian grids. In this moment I feel crawling anxiety, some mild form of formication, these hallucinations tangible but not visible.

It's that stage where theory of mind disintegrates in face of such burgeoning youth, where possibilities feel like flames emerging from your palms, where far more supersternal notches present themselves to be caressed than drops of water to be drank in the Panama Canal (the leaking fistula burrowed between the Atlantic and Pacific oceans; the geography of every woman, oneirically pleasurable to have known and just as quickly effaced from memory) and fata morganas to pursue.

I need to do this for myself.