The Thing

We'll take you somewhere out of frame. Where logic bends but stays unnamed. You might not land the way you came. Still you lean into The flame. Down The hollow, down the seam. Where waking falls into a dream. You ask me softly what it means to paint Fractures in between. A shifting field of upside signs. Where silence hums and crooked lines. Where real and unreal overlap. And time forgets to place its Half