It’s dark here

and I cannot see.

I simply feel for the keys.

It’s plenty solid here,

the wind feels like brick.

It’s solid. I can rely on it.

I notice,

that even though I rely,

the brick

begins to crack.

The more this wall fidgets with

each quake of the Earth

I feel the pressure upon my legs,

It is dark here.

I cannot see,

but yet I know.

My brick has become liquid,

I cannot rely on it.

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