Plot

oh that wretched hand keeps pulling me to one side I cannot see, but feel comfortable going where there is no direction blinking eyes mean nothing here things are the same opened or closed one step after another, the stubbing of toes for all I know the same dog has bitten me thrice everything looks the same smells the same, taste the same dammit I’m not even sure what I’m after but I cannot stop moving oh there goes another stubbed toe and this one appears to be bleeding or is that maple syrup this way, this way, this way, always this way where on earth is the exit door