s s s s s s s s s s s s s

A sound on the line. Not a voice.
Just a hiss.

 

Static.

 

 

“Amara?”

 

 

s s s s s s s s s s s s s s s s s s s s s s s s s s s s s s s s s s s s s s s s s s s s s s s s s s s s s s s s s s s s s s s s s s s s s s s s s s s s s s s s s s s s s s s s s s s s s s s s s s s s s s s s s s s s s s s s s s s s s s s s s s s s s s s s s s s s s s s s s s s s s s s s

 

“Baby, if you can hear me, please. Say something.”

 

ssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss

S

sssssssssSssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss

S

ssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss

sssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssSssssssss

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S

 

I can’t do this. Can’t speak. I only curl in the orange glow of morning, face in my hands. The static sings through the speaker on the pillow by my head. Your smile on the screen. Connected.

02:12

    13

    14

     15

   16

  17

 18

 19

 20

 21

  22

  23

  24

25

26

 27
8
9
0
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9

    0

 

 

    0

 

 

 

 

    0

 

I listen. I need to hear. Hear you there. Hear something, in that river of static. Some rumor, some whisper. Something. Anything.

But you say nothing.

My voice is broken. My eyes write verses for you instead, fat wet strokes across my cheeks, dark ellipses stain my pillow.

 

. . .

 

without end

 

poetry I could never fathom,
every beauty I ever failed to utter
right there on the damp fabric,
empty room filling
with static
with poetry
with sunlight anguish static
static doubt anger
static loathing
despair
static
filling
with rage,
with hurt,
with aloneness, with
static
with

 

with regret with

 

MOSHED-2018-5-5-5-0-4

 

 

with

 

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When I wake again, the river is quiet. Sit up. Grab the phone. Touch the screen. Dead.

 

Was I dreaming? How far back?

 

Did I dream you? Could I

have dreamed
the most
p  e  r  f  e  c  t
thing

 

No. I need to go back. Keep looking. You’re out there. Wandering. Searching.

I need the chamber. I need to talk to Soliman. Convince him to let me back in. Take the goddamn psych test. Whatever it takes.

 

 

 

 

The sun is setting. Outside my window, cicadas begin their newest symphony.

 

“See?” You said, ear against the glass. 
“It’s beautiful. They play to no one, and anyone who will listen.”

 

 

 

Amara.
I’m listening now
for all its worth

ring, ring

My eyelashes taste sunlight, and I’m awake like night never happened. Check the sheets. Damp from sweat. Empty. All my dreams vanished with the closing of yet another door. Left to reckon the morning with only the faintest traces of your presence:

Lipstick on the ebony nightstand.

White lace garment hanging from the bathroom doorknob.

A picture of us in front of the Praxem building. Taken that morning, the last day I saw your face.

Wedding band. Engagement Ring.

 

 

My head is fucked. The inside of my body feels like cake batter stirred with a chainsaw. The chamber scooped out all my vitals and viscera, threw it in a churn and set the speed to insubstantial.

I’m stuck in a loop, one moment on repeat, forever and ever. That moment.

Doubt that I’ll see you again
Not in this world
Not in this life

But maybe—

Maybe the chamber is my only hope. I just haven’t found the right combination. Gotta find the one you used, the exact same one. Like chasing you across galaxies with no coordinates. Random jumps at light speed. Hoping

 

Hoping this time

I’ll find you

bring you back

w   a   k   e          u     p

 

 

 

My cell goes off. 

That ringtone.

I can't breathe. 

This isn't real.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

It’s you.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

You’re calling me.

o p e n

 

And

 

 

now

 

 

 

 

I’m

 

 

 

 

 

 

falling.

 

 

 

 

MOSHED-2018-5-3-11-8-29

 

 

tumbling

 

 

 

down

 

 

 

 

down

 

 

 

down

 

 

   through

 

 

              the

 

 

   floor

 

 

              of

 

 

o        b        l         i                   i        o        n        ,
v

 

 

 

u n

 

l i t

 

t h e

 

e      s

 

r       e

 

 

a             n

 

 

d                              e

 

 

 

f                                                                  o

 

 

m                                                                                                     y

 

     

       

          

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ʍ

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comes

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t o   f l o o d   t h e     s t r e e t

of   —  my   —   sub   —  cons    —  cious

b l u e    s m o k e    h a z e    P a R a D e

 

 

w h i t e  f l a g s
s   n   a   p   p   i   n  g
i n  t h e  b r e e z e
a n
d i
f e
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deliver evil liver e  v  i   l    e     d

 

.

  e

s

       i

R

i

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e

t h e
w i t h  s u n.


 

 

 

 

Morning is red,

 

 

 

 

 

no wonder.

 

 

 

 

 

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