this morning #306.

this morning, the ship was slowly sinking & his thinking was askew, with a slanted view of reality leaving him reeling. he sat there in his barely-lit living room, afraid that the light would rush on in & reveal a plethora of tiny cracks. right outside those tightly-sealed four walls, there was so much disease. keeping the shades drawn kept him from focusing on all the ways people were highly infectious. in here, the only thing infectious was the silky sounds of adele’s sultry voice coming from his vintage turntable. as she sang of building herself up & flying around in circles, he had torn himself down so far that he was stuck in place. at least he was safe.