its pulling at me, tugging and taking…my retched little spine being pressed down upon by the entanglement of taught muscles ….holding and holding and holding as if gravity has it out for me in a sort of dark large cozmilky way. breathing is that of utmost impotance in that i must make myself firm and stiff to take part. im afraid of forgetting. my grip tightens, leaving the fingers of my soul in stained glass; ruby glistened fingerprints tinge the fractals of light until my white face now indicting a stale rosey glow-
-of the humless tune that exists in the nothing.