In Around the door
and up to the next floor.

Walls whisper their
wah wahing
Vibrating a flashing inbox beacon.
Dear Beloved, I'm here.
Pressing in
Good like
Just like
White cotton covered mom's chest after monsters

Step 5
and up
and now
being alive
is like
the smile of joke you weren't supposed to get
Twitching in the corner
Of your mouth
Like a junkie
All set

Step up
and around on to smooth
floor lines eschering towards
a point
where the Beloved,
the one that
the walls were just telling me about.
And now
Not doing becomes a Taste Like Burning
One circle of vision
focused by hands turning
rubbing
greedily
like a villian as the plan come to fruition

And with every step
something
disappears
into a final assasin's
puff of smoke.
Escaped.
Absconded.
Leaving me behind to rot.
Leaving me to ask
us
whether this task
is a good thing.
Or not.

Because if its not
It means I've gone farther
From being a man
To a funny cartoon dog
Arms windmilling as fast as they can
Arching back
From a straight down
beyond the last tuft of grass sticking out over the cliff.
In the grip
of a whited out
mirrored matching set of
eyes on long white streamers
falling down
Made up reaction to a made up cliff
yet without the makebelieve
terror of what would happen if.

One thought
A thousand times reflected
In a smashed mind's lens
Neglected
Without focus
or seeing the edge
So that I won't think


If I fall
will God
catch me?