overwhelming sense of dread

what is the meaning of it all, anywho?

is it part of some grand scheme, some astral plot

to make us whole again

some day far from now?

perhaps, on the contrary, there is nothing;

are we born simply to exist?

there is a crack in the eye of man

like glass, the light in the fracture

is split like the millions who came before it

never to reform

its tongue flicks at me.

out of the puddle of saliva rolls a pearl.

it dissolves.

what does it want from me?

it slithers away, back to its damp home.