Every one of my predictions of late have proved so astoundingly accurate, I might as well shave my head and call myself a crystal ball.

Then I will perch on the dark brown chair that I seem to have appropriated from a cafe at three in the morning and reward any and all who will listen with free gazes into my fucking scalp.

--

"The wholeness that which you seek sits on a throne you're not worthy of beholding," the gatekeeper says to me.

I ask him: How much longer?

This scene keeps playing in my dreams as I hug myself to sleep. Each time, his eyes appear more empty.