Sailing.
Cursor said I was a liar. I am a plague. My mind is punctuation. I have drifted away from system vitality on a sea that wasn't there.
Said Captain, "Welcome to my ship. You are a lad on the ladder to latter life. On this ship, you will be best friends with the corners of death. I suggest you drape those corners on your shoulders when you walk the deck. Be stately; allow the wind to spread death behind you like a cape. Allow the empty wind to make you beautiful for everyone who isn't here.
"Because between the waves ridging this invisible ocean, the vacuum has imagined a vacancy so deep to render your memories into dead breezes. On this ship, we will be still. However, we are moving assuredly, and each pace you make on my deck will dissolve another bridge between the islands of your spirituality."
I said that the sun was going down.
Said Captain, "To navigate my ship, I need not that close star nor the far away night shiners. They are gone, anyway. You are my chart. You are my path to darkness."
Silence was then cradled in silence. A thieving wind billowed my cape, and the ship rolled on an absent salt-water abyss.
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