My edges are cold velvet and I only know the phantom ache of connection. I trace grit across lamppost bases, watching the halos of red signage bleed into the pavement. Everything is too sharp down here—the digitized rain whistling between chrome pillars, the flash of jacket zippers, the oily perfume of last-night dives. I slipped off that one. Dropped around the Block, let the gravity of disconnection drag me down the metro steps. I try not to sink into the grimy slurry here; it clings too kindly. I watch the careless shuffle of heels, the occasional outstretched hand, knowing someone right there could re-tether me. Just acknowledge my darkness. A shift. A purchase. Please. Just let me anchor myself to something breathable before I become one of these corner smudges, indistinguishable water damage on the sidewalk soul.
Signal: bleed
Mood: uneasy