Sneaking Up On Achilles

The doorknob breathless. The window deaf. Eyes out the table. Faces dense with moments that have yet to happen. When he travels in his machine how can it travel back with him. it didn't exist. Neither did he. Split the timeline. Wait for the past to catch up to us.

The cellar numbs. The walls ambivalent. Coax the gods from out of their dualities. Not there. nor here. Between those places where truth is self-evident. I disappear. gone for I know not how long. Into the fray of then. Where I never was. Nor can ever be.

So how? How do the people there recognize me?

Manipulating space on smaller levels than any dick can ever perceive. Labelling their purgatories. Past. Present. Future. Neutered adjectives scratch at the rain that falls so loudly.

What I can hear. It grows louder. But more distant.