The air is present, but off in weight—
It breathed beneath my dragging tread.
Each step mistook itself for fate,
My inner voice spoke, “Don't breathe, instead.”
The moon, it winked, then turned to ash—
Its glow, a trick. An enchanted claim.
The sidewalk split like I had crashed,
a static god without a name.
The faces turned but couldn’t track
my bent proportions, preset loops.
We saw each other—witnessed lack—
their auras steamed like data soup.
The neighbor outside was made of code,
his mumbles stitched with minor flaws.
He walked a lagging, crooked load—
a hologram without a cause.
My name collapses if spoken twice,
a sound that doesn’t mean a thing.
Identity—just loaded dice
thrown blind across a buffering screen.
Store signs were different at second glance—
one blink and “Pharmacy” was “Control.”
The cars reversed their motion trance,
passing through buildings they'd passed just before.
The pigeons froze mid-flight like glass,
then shattered the moment they caught my eye.
She glitched—revealing skin’s disguise—
and smiled with teeth she didn't try.
My arms were pulsing with phantom blood,
my ribs were cords I couldn’t play.
Each thought I had was owned by flood—
I feared that death would find its way.
The walls were off-white, shaped oblong,
they fluxed with math beneath the paint.
This world’s too smooth, too clean, too long—
its holiness grown dim and faint.
So, I became something unglued,
a breach inside the program’s lie.
Not mad—just deeply over clued,
I feel—I know—that nothing dies.
