• Vol. 09
  • Chapter 12
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The World Is Flat

I follow a voiceless sound―
the gravity of the unknown,
a weightless body of absence.

My hand grasps the nothing
that pulls me into its wake―
I am surrounded by waves,
drowning in the confusion
of exhausted shouting.

As this unjourneying continues
on its invisible trajectory,
I find that I can neither rise nor fall.

(If I shed my skin
will I leave my bones behind?)

I am going nowhere
fast, endlessly―inside
a borrowed disquieting time.

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