There is a low rumble reverberating off of the walls.
The sound bounces, & you can hear & almost translate the silent murmur of the dissonant noise.
Corner to corner he slips silently between the bodies, & as I see him move, I cower beneath a glass table.
I am the table, fragile & transparent.
My hollow body, my anchored soul, my thoughtless mind.
I dream & am awake.
The walls are gone now, along with the bodies, & I stand alone, naked, covered in blood.
They all appear as shadows, lonely hearts in mind, my mind.
There is no ceiling as I look up, & the shadows swim above me, taunting, doubting, leading me
to a home of ill-consequence.
My blood is now theirs, my heart is now yours.
We live to awaken, & in my resurrection I view the silent beauty & sobering chaos of the individual.
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