i was awake, in the dark, floating over leaves, as the rain began. or, at least i wished i were. instead, i was fumbling under orange light, dark patches slowly adorning the asphalt passing below. i was free, but only within the confines of a cage i'd crafted for myself, as long ago as organic advent, and as soon as perpetual. stuck in a reverie, further down the coastline, i discovered i could no longer feel. awake and distanced, i felt the claws within my ribcage instead simply pass through, and couldn't decide if i'd been cheated, or stumbled onto the trail of fretless existence. thus arose my worry, and, all fears confirmed, is set out to find something that dug in. hurt or elate or panic or wonder hid, behind the curtains of cold swathing me, though.
the sky is just a sky.
nothing builds up, just spreads at my feet. grass is just a series of fibre and proteins. a long wait is just a clock's hands.
down some road, the days while away in the same or different places. i am predominantly the same, indifferent.