Waking, or not.
Walls fold inward, thin-breathing.
Something hums behind what isn’t there.
Steps press into steps,
press into steps, press—
A door flickers. A mirror drowns.
A bed forgets its shape.
Somewhere, a hand reaching, unmade.
Somewhere, a voice, air-thin, unvoicing.
Drink, it says.
But the cup is hunger, the milk is grit,
and my mouth is borrowed.
Leaving, or not.
The door unshuts, the light unwrites,
and I am—
Feb 22, 2025
Feb 22, 2025 at 10:40 PM UTC
Waking, or not.
Walls fold inward, thin-breathing.
Something hums behind what isn’t there.
Steps press into steps,
press into steps, press—
A door flickers. A mirror drowns.
A bed forgets its shape.
Somewhere, a hand reaching, unmade.
Somewhere, a voice, air-thin, unvoicing.
Drink, it says.
But the cup is hunger, the milk is grit,
and my mouth is borrowed.
Leaving, or not.
The door unshuts, the light unwrites,
and I am—
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