Stroll towards. Shimmer back.
Crawl towards. Stumble back.
‘Her’ words were whining and what’s worse was
Still to come. Come-hither and see you later.
The nightmare in which every door is the same.
Her room is cramp like a spacious and sleeping virus –
Lodged behind the heart. The heart lodged
And caught in the door. The door locked
And caught in the heart. Miscellaneous will.
Fall towards, stammer back.
Turn around and walk away now.