When somebody is yelling in a film, I flip
the quantity down. She was operating
in a discipline, although nothing
was chasing her and there was nowhere to go.
The reality was this: We’re every
operating for our lives. Flailing
our limbs as if split-bodied, ill-mattered,
drained with the many years however determined
sufficient to run. What type does a void
soak up a discipline as relentless as stone? I felt most
myself after I was least beloved. Solid into
the night time like a half-formed sound, I used to be falling
towards sleep after I heard a faint
rustling as if it have been calling from a distant world,
close to sufficient to startle me awake.
My eyes opened; the room, empty.
They are saying we’re made out of astral particles.
They are saying a crater within the floor is an imprint
of starvation lower from a falling, far-flung factor.
