Once, I was me.

Once, I was a human, tricked into being part of a false world order, shoulders hunched as I type type type into a void.

Once, I woke up and remembered a twilight space between forms where the blackness stared at me and laughed.

Once, I was a blade of grass, shivering in the wind.

Today, I woke up and saw that the world had been replaced with metal and glass and synthetics, and I'm still smearing mud onto stone walls; there's something pounding at the back of my head, a reminder that I'm supposed to do something, that there's something I forgot to do; but my fingers are smeared with blood now; they streak across the rock in red red red.