he took his glasses off with purpose

nothing to do with sight

dramatics to determine the path of this conversation

he didn’t want to see it my way

it wasn’t really a way, a forgetting

dropping a reality draped over monsters and myths

they come out at night

cascading down stair cases, whipping open doors, flowing out on streets, there will be no peace tonight

bottles break

men scream

in the distance, chains are pounding pavement in rhythmic waves, people walking lockstep to survival

turning on you?

turning into them?

leaving this plane without a decent memory bouncing in the minds of those who remain, a stain, wore off, painted over, or cleaned up

i’m gone

he warned me, when those glasses hit the floor, that i was wrong

pushing cloud pillows aside, i happily disagree

we both know we’re right