Static before the Baton’s opening thwack. Dynamism. The sweeping away of chemic chords and prolific reaction. I’m pieces. Beating. A whirling cadence. The smelted rattle of murk. Wisps of solidity fading in fragments. Primordial trembles.
Wreckage
Repelled to thrum
In eclipsed space
Foamy membrane
Grey area
It’s snug
To recall volatility
This suspended explosion
Of lucidity
Porous exposure