Motion Sickness A small screen signaled the end of my comfort, And all my desires are doomed from here on out. If only I could hide under the ceramics, And spend my days in simulated safety… But I never can. My head spins, and so do the wheels. The instability twists up my throat, And my fingers reach to roll down the windows. I think about our time in the terrace, When all was made clear - “yes, this is one of those endings”; Smaller scale, but similar to now. Close out all the openings, Lest the bolts hanging from the clouds sneak in. I have to admit, this was never in the plans. Never have I ever planned the world to break The meager myth of manageability That I fooled myself with. - Neil Lencio
94 | Cosmos
