everything falls apart or just into step with the speed of the earth turning from its place on the corner of his palm. nothing ever felt so real & he was never quite one to take anything seriously but theres a part of you that lingers. it weighs down on his chest like an anchor to his lungs & maybe if hes ridiculous / delirious he’ll admit that it feels something, somewhat, somehow like a heart— beating to the sound of your name, in the echo of your footsteps, to the rhythm of your slow tide ( apartheid ) intakes & misgivings: oxygen, perfume, cigarettes.
