a cyclical road map to nothingness
littered with fragments of do not enter signs
swimming through a sea of crumpled paper
my ink stained hands ***** walls of judgment
the ever rasping door scrapes open with hesitation
hello fear, I’ve been expecting you.

no time for formalities
fingers bent back
mouth taped shut
mind strapped down

and in the distance, the monitor bleeps its disapproval,
“sorry, we’re not interested in your work at this time"