hide & seek

where are we? what the hell is going on? the dust has only just begun to fall. crop circles in the carpet, sinking, feeling. spin me around again and rub my eyes, this can't be happening. when busy streets, a mess with people would stop to hold their heads heavy. hide and seek, trains and sewing machines. all those years, they were here first. oily marks appear on walls, where pleasure moments hung before. the takeover, the sweeping insensitivity of this still life.