Time to feel something.
Ocean, not cold enough.
Cutting, not deep enough.
Starving, not sharp enough.
Wind, not strong enough.
Movement, not fast enough.
Cigar, not strong enough.
Honesty, not truthful enough.
Not enough. I’m not enough. I’ll keep receding, don’t worry. I’ll keep shrinking so you and your reality can have more space.
Careful, though. I’ll soon disappear and you’ll have marked the bounds of this all. This territory is finite. You’ll see.
