Validation

I’m on Level 4-D, by a concrete pillar.

I’ve been clicking the remote for twenty minutes,

waiting for a chirp that never actually comes.

I think I’ve reached my emotional limits.

There’s a flattened blue mask in the oil stain,

a map of a country where nobody goes.

It’s oily and dark and it smells like exhaust,

and the wind in the ramp is the only thing that knows

where I’ve been for the last three hours.

I forgot the ticket. I forgot my own name.

I’m just a ghost in a cold concrete box,

playing a very expensive, very quiet game.