How, among a hall of chandeliers, does one firefly spin into darkness, twirling as a drunk who’s opened the door to weightlessness?

I feel I’m struggling to hold onto the vision of things. I am an impatient wheel, distracted.

You are in my thoughts. You’re not a light that is going out, but one that is reaching further beyond where you thought you would–so the fireflies feel strained, but their only growing in their influence.

Hold on– the door to weightlessness only seems ages into the dark.

What the brain takes in, it can only transcribe–you think doors or the weight of bodies / thoughts are petticoats to the brain? No, the transcription is a letter the brain hands itself in the dark, having forgotten what was written.



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3 responses to “

  1. ryan manning

    i like how this blog has a content warning

  2. Gerry Boyd

    This really nice. Have you considered a few more line breaks or are you more comfortable with it as poetic prose? Either way it’s perfect to read out loud. Killer closing line, BTW. Bravo!

  3. ramy

    Absolutely stunning. I love that you can see the depth on each and every decoration. It makes me want to run my hand over the gold roping. Wonderful work.

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