Jagged shards of odd gray clouds fall from shattered skies–puzzling, spinning, whirling, tumbling in the wind.

Echoes upon echoes and echoes within echoes within echoes as they may be.

Near the edge
On the edge
Over the edge

Emotions
Worthless things.
Over the edge, they go
emotional avulsion
hollow anxiety
Aloneness.

Over the edge
On the edge
Near the edge

One lump or two?
the Hostess asked.

That is not a snake. That is an omen.
–