I. As his hand tightly holds the pen, he knows that this ink                                                                         II.
can transcend the interface. He closes his eyes, unsettling for                                                   He enters
_this electric execration_. As he swings the first                                                         the eye, and another
page, on the journal’s straight lines, his                                                        eye welcomes him, the words
devices alter a letter, a phrase                                                     are not stopping him to pierce the fabric
a sentence; there goes time                                           of the cosmos, innovating doors of the unknown
opening like an eye                                        until a fierce slit, one bleeding portal of violet and galaxies
Will he pray? No.                                      vomits a flood white liquid, blinding. Then _loading, loading_—
He’ll write.                                                      He tightens the grip. _He readies his pen for his own eye._