There’s this propulsion of engines who unrelent. I am yes prying any part of me into my matters not caring if they’re stone or slate or something that rumbles and quakes under my steps. These stones open no doors or reveal any revel they only are to be shaken and to be be pry-ed.
‘Deep time’ is the core of every line, I think. These flash-forward-flashing-backwards-forwards have no cares of that while they flux into rocks and waters and any cement they can grasp and pry themselves into. This type of force is unrecognizable to anything outside of the walls, who themselves bend and curve into themselves with every PUSH.
I met a boy who can’t see anything but granite. He forces these stones out of anywhere because it is all he sees, and he does it so unrelentingly that all metals and tools and plastics and ANYTHINGS tremble in the wake.
The wake is like a dawn to him. When he tells me that I fear anything close.