Eyes soft with fire burning tongue. Slither down the hallway and the rats scatter. Scrambling, darting, burrowing deep, into any dark crevice they find. Among the massive, chalked concrete slabs, sprawled-out and sleeping upon the brown, sunken earth. Look up at the waning moon, an odd deformity. Partially stifled, partially burning, secret shapes, imprinted upon its fair, soot face. A bleached-out smudge. Highlighted by tiny pin-hole dots. Seeing stars, letting the air in so I can breathe again. The breeze brings scents of musty ground, rotting to make new.   Sweet scents of morning dew. On green blades and clover.   Smells of salty brine loft to the atmosphere, from the crusty shell of an ocean floor. A spicy perfume reaches up in my nostrils. Grabbing my train of thought off its tracks. Suspending it mid-air. Teleporting it inside a television screen. Wispy images scroll-by. Sauntering in a dream cloud state. A familiar child dances about. Finding a cabinet. Half-emptied o...

A feeling washes over me That familiar feeling Being here before Hundreds of lives within one Sitting, staring At a picture on a wall To infinitely unexist In this moment of existence Maybe it’s coincidence Maybe its bliss