2010-10-31
way down here
I am killing myself with silence and isolation. I am quietly dying under my favorite cloud. I am naked, shivering, and ill at the bottom of this life.
Stairways step up and out in all the wrong directions. I am a man of false momentum. I strip the hands from clocks the way some children tear wings from flies. I try--unsuccessfully--to disable time.
I am naked and crying at the bottom of the elevator shaft. Something watches me from the back of my head. One hand is for the other to hold.