"She just lay there! She just lay there,

letting her skin pour into the sidewalk,
letting the sun melt her eyes and
turn her lips to ash.

she lay there-

Because it was easier
than moving.
than getting up.
than moving forward.

becoming something else is always easier
than being yourself.

being something else is always easier
than facing yourself.

The tips of her fingers were made to feel.
so she keeps them in the air.

she's lying there

with her hands above ground and
waiting for the sun to go down.

Because it's easier to wait for something to happen
than to face yourself.

Because it's easier to admit you don't matter
than to face yourself.

she can move.

but she won't.

she just

won't.

she doesn't understand the meaning of the word "why".

she's trying so hard, but she can only
keep her hands up for so long
before they drop and
before they fade.

she's got her priorities mixed up.

Is she fading in my mind?
or in her own?

probably her own-

She just can't help being solid.
she will be forced to move,
soon.

back here, in reality
which never feels quite real enough,

she will have to move-
or fade away into nothing.

I don't know if she cares.
I don't know if I understand how caring works.

she's still lying there.

she's no longer a spectacle.
now she's just something people step over.

I can't tell if she's become the sidewalk.
and whether or not that's a good thing.

I wish i could whisper something in her ear
which would make her-

think getting up would make a difference.

you can't help anyone.

I wonder if I held her hand, would she want to feel again?

I'm repeating myself,
sorry

but so is she
so are all of us.

just. Repeating.

she's still lying there.

nothing has changed for her.

she's just lying there!"

He recounted the empty tale with a tense urgency and energy,
his lips sparking as he spoke and he

didn't

understand

a word.