The story always flows inside. Now, outside, as well. Like JM says: I see something of myself in everyone; just at this moment of the world.
From the perspective of the Pendulum’s pivot point
From which we are all hanged.
So, I pace out a one-room prowl.
Cursed and blessed our we,
tethered by our high potential of permittivity?
They shalt not treat us unkindly,
but, we may ache further(,)
These indirect aspersions haunt my southern plane,
I see you,
nearly combustible from that raw fossil fuel that burns out of your eyes as hot tears.
An enflamed emanation of emotion.
A diesel engine backfiring.
A vice-president shooting his friend in the face.
A murder that occurs on account of how hot it is.
A happy death.
A deal with the devil that you pray to god s/he must hono(u)r.