Vertigo

The sun through my bedroom window binds these noiseless pages and I lock my eyelids. Walking onto a bookshelf shore inside a wonderland and shifting more diminutive into the story that has yet to be written, my skin vitrifies as I'm being spun about infinitely dense space, blurring into a white flower event horizon and I touch the singularity. The glass of my consciousness shatters and scatters across time and I witness the ensemble of my life happen in this moment. That was an excerpt from a book I wrote called "White Flowers", talking about the feeling of falling into a metaphorical black hole during meditation. The "bookshelf shore" is a hidden database/library overlapping the universe...View all