It’s there.

Your hand I mean. But maybe that wall isn’t.

“You’re a wall.”

Punch it.

Heyday world it’s a grey day, say – hitting that wall sure hurt.

But not really. Pains just information. A string of code like any other. That wall hurt your hand when you punched it because the programming is coded that way.

It’s like a warm blanket on a hot day, the feeling. You’re sleepy, out of touch.

“No you are.”

“Got ’em coach.”

Breathing seems hard but also irrelevant, unnecessary. Another line of code.

“One day we’re gonna wake up, see? Yeah…..yeah, nothing less real than reality.”

Stuffy like an attic, give me that Claritin clear. Nurse need some O2, stat.

Need to rip that canvas open, step through. Breathe. Or maybe I won’t even need to. Colors like you’ve never seen.

Can’t get there, can’t adjust gotta wait.

Another day in the grey, work ain’t done yet.

Thank God either way.

 

Up here.