White Noise, Black Lines
by Michael Matheson
World ended on Sunday. Thought it would be a Saturday. I was wrong. Everyone else is gone; vanished into an aether of misaligned stars and voices singing without body.
I think your voice is among them. Can’t be sure. Not sure of much anymore. Not long for here anyway. Wanted to leave this behind though. Don’t know where I’m going, but if this missive finds you, follow.
If you’re already gone, well, I’ll be there soon.
© Michael Matheson 2011