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trap-doors

time was looping, thus fragmenting my mind and memories. one instant i was on the butler

campus, appealing for a journalism job; the next i'm a detective, pursuing some ambiguous

lead. some guy, operating under the alias lt. beam (a bond villian if ever), had stolen

some intel. my head buzzing, these thoughts oscillated btwn very visceral and strangely

un-embodied; a violent shift in immediacy and distance; disassociative to say the least.

                                   ^

the structure i entered seemed smaller on the outside, and seemed like a simple blue-box.

inside, on the other hand was an escher of a head-scratcher; i laugh internally at the

thought of both a compass and sakawagea. i am in the dungeon, my mind in doldrums, but

the exploration was really the point of the journey; swerve.