1. You come to me
   as a short
   -ness of
   breath.
2. There isn’t much I can say nowadays
   without remembering the dead
   lines, crossed lines, double-spaced
   on the sidewalk, the
   lip-like repetition of endless jumping
   rope, the movement of the bow
   as it plays across the strings
   of my heart; and who can really
   say anything new about the heart,
   really, that oft-used thing,
   dirty red and pumping
   lifewater into pipes
   that we walk over.
   I am sick of it but
   it works for me
   still and still.
3. …an island, now.
4. No man is an island,
   but what about two?
5. Sell my days on the market,
   cleave the father in two.
   Sell his tongue, raw
   and unscrubbed.
   This is not a poem
   this is a confession
   of the seductive quality
   of invisible market forces
   which permeate themselves
   into the veins of my thoughts
   and go to bed tucked under folds
   and folds within my brain, miles and
   miles to go before I sleep, and endless
   lines stacked upon lines like bodies in rapture.

Freewriting Explanation: Every day, Valen shall use 5 minutes to write completely unprompted and uninterrupted, letting the words lead the way. There is no end purpose to each piece, but rather, the pieces are allowed to develop naturally in their own way. The pieces are then uploaded without edits.