this is not tactical information.
this is a growing network of conceptual pages.
come in. there’s no beginning or end.
it’s the reflection in the table,
where the fingertips touch duplicates of themselves
throwing mud at the wall again, i see.
a physical key is a word
that’s yelled in a wide open space.
the ice captured a leaf.
half in, half out.
“grave danger” is not about the beginning or the end
everyone’s here, lightyears apart, immersed in the murky black.
you could be escaping a burning building with every belonging in tact
the first was in danger. it kept trying to seem different from itself.
though tomorrow it will be gone
fake skin made of smooth flawless steel
won’t protect anything.