six sentences

My feet are unsurprisingly a little cracked after the month in the field.

There are two crickets mating on the wall above my bookshelf.

Outside the construction workers banter and play their loud music on an outdated radio.

Doorknobs, which stabilise our plane of existence like cosmic anchors, stretch across dimensions and yet are confined to a single quasi-spherical region with a keyhole.

What is the whiskey bottle but a third empty and trembling with the key-strokes like the portent of something dire, is it even a whiskey bottle at all or just a figment of my senses like the dream of an alcoholic butterfly?

Take me away from here, take me away, even if it kills, even if there's nothing left to take but take that anyway, there are tissues on the left if you need them but the door is on the right and keep walking once you're out and pretend that nothing happened, nonchalant.