Grandads death bed

May day landscape has been delayed.

Hearing beeps and a guant face. I had to go since all other family members are going to gigs.

Beep, beep, beep. Of the Christian hospice. mRNA vaccine for pancreatic camcer came too late, despite the good news.

Is it the brief movements and visits of the nurse, along with wheezing coughs.

With that I'm forced to think of death again.

It happens with that of injury, with personal coping mechanisms to that of a sociological kind of the pointless bipartisan issue of beep-boop. 

I told og my character in my auto-fiction which i can't expend labor on since it timr can never wait, with the presentism that im brought to thought of bring,  Can only write or doodle on a android app.

He's barely concious, as with not having to be selfish as he rests like that. Ignoring that numb pain of my groin.

A line of reassurances as im brought to philosophise about death again. Despit the indeterminancy of our births and class, we are meant to being community despite tbe vulgar perverse incentives of mob rule, I'm brought to understand that with my respect to that indeterminancy. That sweet dream my grandad is feeling will come in peacefully, despite all projected conflicts. Then is comes with reinterpretation and re interpolation, to a recursive coherentism of cosiliance of what can be left the end mark of life.

Agonizing as I'm brought telling my monist ontology (not reductive) to him how materials live on through my ideological actions. Then at that point, with the ascension of our dilectical approach to the masses, better or worst. Its a try. Oh yeah, I'm dualist again, thinking about how it all goes back.

Yet what of the life-death valence?

"You will live on with the material impressions with which I draw Theo."

"You will join Grandma soon, in her garden."

Mixture of sobs, then with mine being too stoic as nurses come around. With tubes of milk and food coming in.

Then I'm brought to rest two hours on a sofa couch, stuffed with stuffed mushrooms as the time is reminded.

Songs of a grand time reflect of sisters when they know coils and the chrono circle reaches completion.

Infinite Sunshine 🛋👩‍❤️‍👩🛌💤

Yesterday of this memoir, he is gone.