moriarty
reverse
it cannot be the same she waits in the one while the other moans in the hole in the floor in the wall in and out himself between them stands empty and holding out his hands to both now screaming as the shouting grows and grows louder and louder with spaces of the same open silence yet watches on the edge of it as if she were not to be pulled in a hand could stop him he is angry his face grows as if a moon rose of black light darkening as if life were black it is black it is an open hole of horror of nothing as if as if not enough there is nothing