Somewhere between watching the whole day pass from under the covers, the future a thing that spits the pause button out of my throat; between rich dreams that I am wading through, gripping whole handfuls, watching them pour between my fingers, a few pocked pearls rolled by my burning palms; between the steps that push me forward, and backward, and forward again, progress built with footsteps built with words that walk their plosives and fricatives and sibilance, delicately, over the steps of the tips of my teeth.
This is intended to be a piece about lying, though it shares a lot in common with anxiety and depression. For the most part, this piece speaks for itself; the interaction between the performer, the tape, and the buzzer within the tape aren't very hidden.
As the piece progresses, the solidity of the sentences used slowly deteriorates. As lying becomes more and more pervasive, it both destroys the strength of your word and your own belief in it, to the point where you might as well not be using any language at all.