Archive
11/04/09 - (1)
Other World
One morning, way beyond late in the remainder of your life, You boarded the Death Express When it pulled into your first yawn's dawn depot,
Rode it for what seemed at least three millenniums per second, Before arriving at what you believed, in your bones, To be your destiny's intended destination.
But on deboarding, you found yourself completely disoriented, A total stranger adrift amidst souls Stranger than any somnambulists you'd encountered at home.
Petrified amidst the ghostly confederation of the unknown, Immobilized, you suffered a seizure That left you disembodied, dematerialized, invisible to yourself.
After what must have been a matter of retrogressive seconds, Countless trillions, quadrillions of them, You awakened in your sweaty bedsheets, dead to that other world.
11/04/09 - (1)
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