Who do you cry out for at night? When your sheets are rolling like the waves and turning like the tides? Tear out the growths skin yourself alive. This was not my goodbye.
chests heaving across telephone wires spouting resolutions to preserve the data. Alive by machine digital life support I am connected through the circuitry I am binary.
Waves and words conveyed through cracked cuticles and shrouded in fog. The harder one stares into the mist the less visible the details become. As with a photo that's out of focus step back and widen the eyes.