he speaks. a wall. he writes a wall. his signature a wall, vainly he gestures, vainly he signs, no rhythm, no sense of proportion, no dignity, no lilt, all viral spikes, stiffly atilt. his words are shards penetrating ghosted flesh. his pen is wobbly yet full of threats. empty of inspiration, dark money poison ink, he signs the wall, before it falls. he or the wall will fall, while we wait, looking despite our self. we can't help it, we're creatures who anticipate, what we know comes to a portal, what we mean to know, mean walls are meant to fall.