the world next door

The World Next Door

Captain, I'm reading portals from the lower frequencies.

I kept a copy of the pink slip on a yellow slip that I put in a metal filebox.

Vital systems have been meticulously maintained, but it doesn't look good.

It opens, as if a flower bloomed all at once or the moon rode out from

the same stories we've always told, just with different names, different faces.

It came in handy, as well, when he made a sale, although civilian life

thought elements from your past might help ease you into the present.

I knew it was wrong, but by then I had waded so far into my lie

only to learn the world doesn't end when you do. Surprise.

Sing my songs and then bury me high in a tree.

Know how hard it was to hack that mirror?

Not doing so being increasingly glaring.

My predecessor loved precision.

God's been going deaf.