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When any individual is yelling in a film, I flip  
the amount down. She was once working
in a box, regardless that not anything
was once chasing her and there was once nowhere to head.
The reality was once this: We’re each and every  
working for our lives. Flailing  
our limbs as though split-bodied, ill-mattered,  
drained with the a long time however determined  
sufficient to run. What shape does a void  
soak up a box as relentless as stone? I felt maximum  
myself when I used to be least beloved. Solid into  
the evening like a half-formed sound, I used to be falling  
towards sleep once I heard a faint  
rustling as though it had been calling from a far off international,  
close to sufficient to startle me wide awake.
My eyes opened; the room, empty.
They are saying we’re created from astral particles.
They are saying a crater within the floor is an imprint  
of starvation lower from a falling, far-flung factor.

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