The moving images, blurred

Sound distorted, speech slurred

TV just ain’t what is used to be

I’m mindless but I know what they’re doing

I know where she is

I know who she is

The riots and the violence that splash across my screen

Endearing and fascinating but not to me

My mind is focused on the void and I see nothing else

To the ship I must fly

To this world, say goodbye

Goodbye to everything

Stars and light shift across my windows

Could I simply float to the moon?

Swim in a sea of space

An eclipse with my own shape

Finally I find her, and him, that is I

But he is not me, nor I him

Prospect One, or am I Prospect One?

I can’t focus.

I see them sleeping on the waves of silk.

A cloud caressing their sleeping bodies, the window’s open.

The eyes of the parliament glow vivid in the night.

In another room my hand turns the valve. Turn it to release, fill the room.

Am I me?

He took what was mine and I could never have again

What is he?

Creeping in before the rise of the sun, I shall wait no longer. I know what I must do.

I raise the box above my head, overshadow the dead. I see the writing in the side:

“Property of the Night Owls”.

It is time now, I must open the box.

I see them once again. They are holding each other, like it’s the last time…

And it is.