off to the space where how
small we are becomes apparent, you
won't hear from me for a while but
I am alive and well, more-so than
previously, I assure you

off to the space where strings protest
the fallen angels we have allowed into
our homes, weathered giants aware of
each slice all the while supporting
greedy feet

we are the devil.
we are god.

anything but the in-between, that's
where things get lost