baited breath. the universe breathes for you. the sun steps gently walking by. .. ... . blood thrums too loud. should be still. laminar.


.. there's not much to do.


blinking crashes cymbals . ..



. one day your perfectionism will catch up with you.

you whet your lips, nervously, nerotically. eyes flicking to the clock, worrying at the insides of your mouth with teeth sharpened by your own hand. a bead of sweat runs down the bridge of your nose, a long languid pull off a cigarette and you as the smoke trapped in its lungs. how long have you been waiting? it feels like an eternity. there isn't a window to see, no spot to even grasp a glimpse of your own reflection. how long have you aged? and yet the clock ticks on, marching into the distance as the gunfire of your neurons blooms inside your head, two soldiers in your own fields.