i am fractured, the tectonic plates of my skull ever-shifting. you
thought it was just a truck passing. no divine daughter sprang from
my head, but there are eruptions here that cannot be contained by
mere bone etched with things unspeakable. my tears are stalagactites
and when you speak they come whistling down. even the inanimate can
be imbued with purpose if you concentrate hard enough, cognition like
some cave you got lost in, the cavern of my thoughts unnavigable.
when i speak my words form the walls of this labyrinth and the same
message is chiseled into the surface again and again. it meant nothing,
it meant nothing. you will feel the brush of my thick memory against
your leg. and what will do you must stop to rest. and what will you
do when the lamp dies.