Realmhopper's Vertigo
rating: +9+x

ravenous and empty

whistling through the hole in the mountain

and the dice in a cup, a

nausea rolling from the roof of my dormitory

is on me like a parasite. it is on me.

it is a third of the world at any moment

an impossible air i breathe

it is in, now

with owlfeather eyes,

repeated within the halls indefinitely as a fugue

with a body eclectic

rattling against the wind, too far from

the exiled jewel-tones of lullaby and chiming bells.

it is the mark of a wakefulness i will not understand,

so i return again to your home wondering

where the nausea came from

and when it will stop churning

like the voices of heaven and hell and the in-betweens clattering:

sounds pitched higher than old men's ears

yet too present for them to not notice.

it is the mark of a cosmos

not made for the ones like us, the ones deigned to hold

our dry heads above our bodies submerged

in heaving, shimmering, iridescent water.

now see the nausea breaking the surface of the river.

it creeps upwards, inwards,

it is the messenger of the rapids

that contain all worlds.





Discovered on a window in the Library, embossed in the glass.


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