barry

There must be a rip somewhere in the space-time continuum through which a different reality, eerily similar but evidently different seeps through.

You wake up one day, just one day out of many, to find your world has shifted on its axis, not a lot, just enough, just enough to drive you mad.

You’ll be pulled in the wake of the truth future brings, where the ghost of reality waits in the wings.

I’m too tired for insight, too strong for solace, too clear for words, too resonant for silence, too old for wonder, too lucid.

I could buy the story that the world is wicked, that mankind is desperate and alone.