through the iris and into the pitch.
the brain struggles to comprehend the worth,
the weight of it all when projected on pitted backgrounds.
it can't help but be seen, amongst the infinity.
the ether, nothingness, void, whatever.
today i can't get over the thought that mathematically we don't even exist.
nothing more than a twitch in the string of the fabric that makes up the everything.
this face too ugly,
too sweaty, unshaven.
to ever find what it really needs.
this face left behind in a hesitant moment.
seeking a literal assumption.
attached to a parasite.
my tiny blip disappears from the radar
it's time to lie low.
avoid the panic and the stress, the drama.
just cease to fight for any of the things that have seemed to matter so much all this time.
throw the blanket over it when it becomes too heavy.
sink under the current and hold still as can be.
..just for a few days.
until the line goes flat.
and the linen sheet absorbs the fluid
and the world heaves a sigh of relief.
--washing away, he thinks of you
--everything slows, lights flashing through.