I am in the Theater. I am in the Water. A wall you wore in winter. A will you walked through walls for

If elitism, a theater wall painted red symbol loud about the fury few read on the eyes of misbelief, wet painter, my brother the wind, walks between the two of us looking for an awning to time the rain and lean a long plain time, casual teachings, distractedly touching one another, a plane long time
When he isn't in the theater, he isn't in the water, a wall I walked off winter, a will I wear through walls for, for, for, and against and for again. We are in the atmosphere. First person demonstrative. Second person inverted. Third person progressive. First person second. Third person inquisitive. First person elitist. Alleged. Imperative. Impersonal. Microscope. Periscope. A goat song's risk. Boat to Paris. Theater's there. Walls there. Free's there. Maybe. Every person omniscient. Quartz patience. First person dispersed into a herd of his own spotlight on him in the theater, not always a speaking role, but seen as something safer than a voice, a void goes on filling in with vows the settlements between theater earth and her trapdoors. We came together over that exact chasm as the wall in the right spike lee joint bled with conversation about no place I'd rather come from