The first break is the first hint. A tremor of trouble, turbulence, seat belt signs and everything. Are you getting shook up? Will you say?
A moment to catch your breath because you’re running uphill, here.
Have you been looking around for cracks in the pavement? Have you noticed the uneven ground? Did you know it’d only trip you up?
Not a bit.
Skidding to a stop, and it’s all rear wheels – the back sliding out from behind you. Laces getting all caught up in gears and cages, tripping you up in the rain.
It’s alright. It’s just like riding a bike.
Oh, but I never rode before.
So, then. If you cried right now, do you think the Northwest rain would wash it all away?
Ney because we don’t cry anymore, doce.
We live in another world, now. Far, far away. A fantasy of things that can and will never be. Of dreamers and lovers and hopeful happy encounters with the other-worldly ones who make all of our ills better.
Are we making sense now?
Does your face still hurt?
Have you wiped it clean of the grease dripping down your lips?
I’m alive and awake now, sol.
Have you seen me today?
Across the world, it would be mild and windy today. But, I’d never get off this couch to get anywhere or do anything. I’d only be waiting for the Spring, some moment, a kiss or a touch. Some contact from some other life. I’d only be holding on to a thin hope and another game to get us through.
My head is still swimming from the elevation.
Are we in the mountains here? The height of it all? Am I flying or falling?
If I fall, I never hit the ground – so the difference in the details is irrelevant. I have an infinite reach deep inside, and that – in place of god – is enough.
A scattered broken mirror, I’m looking in.
And in the images shattered there is the end.