1012.

Sometimes I wonder
how much of a feeling I'm
manufacturing.

1011.

Then reversal and
erasure. Over myself
for this next sequence.

1010.

A Gaiman novel
made real. A dissolute scape
of heart and future.

1009.

The only recourse
left for the weak to learn strength
to beat its own self.

1008.

Soul emptied and arms
bare, an exercise in pain
turning on itself.

1007.

Until the only
thing left is just a shell of
the person left hung.

1006.

Then the world is gone
in a Noah-esque blink that
the inside out.