Swish

The fog slips past the lamp and brushes the wind, reaching pitifully into the void before dying quietly, a whisper. The light imitates this world, its intrinsic dimness slips into the night and tricks the eye. Glimmering steps appear and fade, the supposed stars blink behind the vapor thicket. There is a faint cracking, like joints snapping in and out of place. What could it be? no one asks. But these are just words. A thought we’ve had, expressed poorly, clumsily, with little syllables, little miracles. A wicked feeling slides into your spine. It twists your nerves, climbs, and disintegrates your brain. The whip cracks your sharpened mind back into existence, and the earth spins an unimaginable velocity.