Rippling of the Void

No I’m not quite comfortable in my assigned space under the watery veil of perception

It sounds like gurgling plug holes and muffled breath, my ears bleed when I’m tempted to poke an index finger through the friction filled air

The breeze has left blushing hand prints across my face

now I seek asylum in a place that’s a little shadowed

The kind of place with a slight echo ringing out so faintly I might start to forget it’s there

Place and space mingling so as to distort tangible evidence and suffocate consciousness alike.

I don’t meet many others here but the ones I do are worth the wait. I know they’ve not heard me yet or they’d stay longer.

I’m too preoccupied with the outside incase they get close

Theyer mechanical gaze plucking at my fur

They persist until they see my skin cold.