I waded my body around on the floor and watched without looking as their drinks filled with hooks and started tugging on the back of their throats forcing them to act on impulse and act on
despair.

I waded my body around in these ideas that felt inside like a 1950's cinema stabbing with the rain and the dramatic silence and screams where all you get is the negative space you never get any
impact.

I waded my body around this flood I was making for myself out of what they were spitting on the ground and on the walls and on themselves and I bubbled mimicked screams so we could
share something.

I waded my body around my dreams and one by one as if these droplets were trying to tell me something they all fell through and I found them soaking my shoes and my knees and my
meaning.

Treading perpetual.