I fell in love with the floor but midnight is inconsistent

the curtains are now open

but the stage is empty

light could never penetrate

the shroud you maintain

we are taking in this

vacant space

edges are unclear and none can say

where the real world ends

"we are actors

we are the opposite of people"

there is a microphone

amplifying the silence

there is a crowd

blocking the entrance

I've never seen such quiet

as when her heart

flew down from the ceiling

broken in her own expectation

of the separation of herself

drawbridges are difficult to build

and the easy ones

are hot to burn

"for all the world's compasses there is only one direction"

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