the question

jets fly past carrying brains and hearts and blood and arms and all manner of things that assemble to resemble human beings. an assembly of brains and hearts and blood and arms and all manner of things listens, dried apricots stuck to the side of a hairy melon. one morning we woke up feeling like the stomach did a runner, an empty hole staring back from the middle of the spindle, black and oozing with beer and undigested instant noodles. the things we know we don't know, the things that know us, those to be scared of. salt drizzles down the ladder, slimy and glittery and full of sorrow. one day we woke up. and we went back to sleep, because after we cleaned up all the mess, what was there to be awake for?