giving in

oxhy

Writhing on the edge,
arms tied in a straitjacket.
lunging back and forth,
walls closing in,
walls closing out.
Addicted or just an addiction?

The space between,
a collapse in on itself.
Tied together by natural attachment.
The mundane world hasn’t stopped,
could it be overtaken?

Here they have abandoned their normal habits, but in order to acquire different habits, the eternity of the everyday, forever.

Inseparable friends who are to be found everywhere. Household gods gone sick.

Everything has already happened.
Making it so there is nothing else to see. That nothing else will move.
Making it so that nothing else will happen, that finally everything will be stopped.