i've been here before. each time finding something new, but not different. i wonder
am i lost?
i walk and think, dream actually, it always happens this way,
these things, these places.
i enter a street, stand there, sense it.
the street expand.
always twenty strides in breadth, and yet
the street expands. and this thing i do, the place, my dream, the new
but not different. i wonder
how to recognize the unseen, the invisible?
walls shift, the barrier's malleable. thinning membranes reveal a portal, the tomb is open.
the void belches ghosts.
i can't wage war, death is insufferable it can't happen here,
but the place exists.
i move on.
away from the street. ten thousand voids yawn in cryptic sequence. the bodies empty,
their skins drape and fold.
the place dissolves. this thing i do, new but not different. stopping, the dream continues and i wonder
keep it. it holds the clue to everything. the mind is like
Narrative: Me; circa 1998
Images: Eric Fischer; Geotaggers’ World Atlas
These are the words I have for today. Leave some of your own below.