much of my life has been spent
in front of an empty screen.
my attempts to refresh it are met with static.
the calm, awful drone
building in the back of our skull
is not an illusion.
The hum radiates outward.
there is a pit meant to catch foxes.
A hole in the ground for yelping.
Open your mouth.
Terrible, stretch your lips, cracking, and kiss the nape of our neck
to see it.
