sometimes a pit gazing inchoate smiling past it all
inès passes the mirror a smouldering black shape
today i looked at no one
tomorrow i’ll arrive.
che vuoi? nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing
but people keep returning i look away frigid frightened caught in an inescapable duration people i knew or know or want to know shrinking in the corner like bellows lungs the sounds of buildings collapsing in reverse one day it'll be better worse you smell like cigarettes you smell like process irrevocable.