– I was looking for you.
– Well, did you find me?
The world carries on being behind your back – shameless boastful natural – as it did in front of you – as it always does. Nothing crumbles. The walls still are lifted by lizards. The pillow still sleeps like a child. The clothes still hang naked without you. Nothing changes with your absence – it isn’t even recorded – your absence – nothing melts expires burns (until it really wants to). Walls pillow clothes stairs road (you left for the other road) the other road – everything remains equally dead equally talkative – [equally talkative] with the space that you left when you left – which was there to replace you.
When you leave nothing folds – stops being visible – locks itself up – shrinks in a fission – mutates inexorably – waits for you to come back. And when you do come back nothing grows – grows back into view – grows back to substance. That is the beauty of it – beauty of a dead world – beauty of infidelity. Behind your back is a world that was never true – a cheat – a world that never did care you exist – a world profoundly disloyal – [disloyal] to your existence – to you. This world has voids better skilled to play you than you and it has an army of them. Your mere walk replaces you with a void more beautiful than you could ever be.
Voids follow you till you become one with them – [one] with voids.
It is a scary world you are living in – scary and disloyal – and sooner or later – sooner – it is bound to kill you – and me.