all, thoughts

Must be 

I look outside my window and see skyscrapers prickling up like porcupine needles. The grey sky is crystallizing and tightening its grip on brick and concrete. Instead of snow, the ragged cloud cover is raining with dust. 

It’s possible to see beyond. Miles and miles of cemented landscape like old, thick, goosebumped skin. It curves at the horizon revealing the creature’s shape. A spherical, gargantuan atrocity; turning slower and harsher, a rusted knob it has become; ceased to be organic long ago.  

I listen. It’s not quite silence and it’s not a roar. It’s the sound of something closing in, of something cog-like aligning, of something tightening and bracing. Must be night. Must be time stopping.
 
 
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