Exploding Head Syndrome
OctPoWriMo 2024, Day 23
When hypnagogia opens a trapdoor beneath my bed, and startles my animal fear of falling, my innards try
to secede toward the grab of gravity. It is pitiful, and we are undignified in this clinging to the disembodied hand
dangling us, by the tail, over the edge. We scrabble claws against the unfeeling stone,
and playback these wind-up actions as installed within
playthings of a taunting deity.
© Tolu Oloruntoba
