ARGO

Although my room is quiet, still and black, movements beyond my house enter inside. Every night metal stretches across my ears, laterally pulling itself until retracts into silence and blue lines streak the ground and sky. It is scheduled on a parallel time, when I arbitrarily ready myself for sleep it endlessly loops on a unidirectional course. I don’t even count anymore as it always passes me unconsensually, I’m always already accounted for. And I know it doesn’t count me until tomorrow, when I board the tram to my destination that predestined me from the day before.