There doesn’t seem
to be a crack. A
higher pin cannot
be set. Nor can
you go back. You
hadn’t even known
the face was vertical.
All you did was
walk into a room.
The tipping up
from flat was
gradual, you
must assume.
–Kay Ryan
Carnival Apocalypse
The floor is littered with debris
Abandoned artifacts collected by the graveyard
children cling to their parents
oblivious to the machines spinning above them
Their older brothers running between the flashing lights
strapping themselves into boxes and screaming.
I’m nauseas
inhaling burnt cotton
and drinking beer from plastic
My phone wont seem to function
And the alleys don’t make sense
What can I do but wander?
Watching the chaos unfold through blurry vision
Searching the crowd for searching’s sake
Listening to everyone except myself
