The city is a sleek mountainside; the people, a vacuum. No purchase. No perch. Without meaning, placement. Island. Afloat on misery. Death for a life raft. Hello, waves.
Dare the beach. No escape from the hut. Ever return. Ouroboros week feeds into itself. Back to the start. Cursed calendar. And the heart. And the heart. And the wretched ringing of a heartbeat. End. This walk. On. Another minute. Lactic acid builds.
Colin Dardis
22