Making a slow descent. I can see the stream of words lighting up the steps. And it seems to me the worms are gathering now, bringing forth the seeds. Aiming at my need to see this through. Staring down at the mouth of the tower. Banking on my need for something new. Putting up a wall again. I can hear the voice. It’s rattling inside my head. You brought it with you and the steps you’re taking (are) a waste, making up the rules. Grace is an anchored mind when everything is just a trap waiting to unwind. We’re falling into it now. Nowhere to end when there’s nothing to lose. Hypnotize me. Lead me in. I expected broken string but I found that there was nothing. Blacking out my eyes with lines you drew. Burn the notes and light the lens again