Now We Are Electric

Now we are electric, and dying to be imprinted onto whiteness. We long to see that dark ink of our minds. Some call all this talk deathbed scenes torn from our youth, some say nothing at all but tap to unwrap a breathless thought. Now we are this tap-tapping on the lids of space-boards - open casket viewings, penny-weight eyes rising to world where life can be rehearsed again. Going to the light, a framed light, an asking light, where words wait to be buried again into a blind humming ether.