The pores grew larger with every glance. I was only told this: “they will grow until nothing is left.”
And so they did.
Despite my lucidity, I am a formless “nothing” now. Unseen, yet aware of my own unreality.
My nothingness is here, somewhere.

The pores grew larger with every glance. I was only told this: “they will grow until nothing is left.”
And so they did.
Despite my lucidity, I am a formless “nothing” now. Unseen, yet aware of my own unreality.
My nothingness is here, somewhere.