Time moves in an eternal circle. Every creature with in the tumble of time is always changing. Everything you see creeping, swimming, flying over the Earth, was either us in the past or will be us in the future. If anything dies somewhere, we all die somewhere.

We went for a walk in the woods while our breakfast cooled on the table, but something sinister came while we were gone. It ate our cooling breakfast. It destroyed our living room. We crept up the back steps and prepared our flamethrowers for what waited behind the door.

I gently tap the wall of the small aquarium on my desk. Inside, a brain slowly starts to glow a soft blue. "Dream my dreams," I whisper. Eyes appear on the brain's frontal lobe and a tiny mouth opens. "Nooooooo..." It moans. "Okay, it's still not working," I tell tech support.

The blood flowing from your cut finger is changing colors. Blue and green and now gold, it is flowing out onto the white marble countertop. "Are you alright?" your friends call from the other room. You hold your finger up to your ear and you hear music. "Yes," you whisper.

We age faster on the inside. Our souls crack and the cracks fill with blown sand. Our hearts become brittle and pitted, crumbling like a ruined temple. The edges of our minds shrivel in the sun and vanish beneath the dunes. Before the end, even our tongues taste like dust.

You arrive at the pearly gates to find God holding a stop watch and shaking his head. "I thought you had it that time, but you're still slowing down in that final third. Let's try it one more time before competition." Suddenly it all starts over.

"I CANT CONTROL WHAT I SAY" the cartoon cat wrote on a sign while yelling "Don't read that! I'm lying!" in the voice of Tom Hanks.

My boss stops mid-lecture and points at my shirt. "I think your pen is leaking." A black dot is growing on my chest. "I do not have a pen." The spot travels down my arms, up my neck, across my face. "Please. Tell me more about how to properly file expense sheets."

The news reporters crowd around the chamber as the chrononaut returns. "What is it like 1,000 years in the future?" they ask. "What did you see?" The man looks terrified. His hands tremble at his collar. "It was all the same," he gasps. "It was all exactly the same."

"Did you see it?!" your mother's voice wakes you from a terrible dream. You turn on the television and- there it is. An image of a tree on a hill. A tree so perfect and so beautiful that everything else stops and we all just stare, longing to touch it, longing to eat its fruit.

You pass your hand over the flame. You feel the heat burn as your fingers start to glow dark orange. "Now read it," says the witch. "learn the truth." Hesitantly, you turn your hand over. There are black words like soot on your palm. A date of fabrication. A date of expiration.

You accidentally switch your phone to something called an "Internally Facing Camera". Your friend is posed kissing the Statue of Liberty, but you are transfixed by the dark images on the screen. Grotesque shadows are writhing in a lake of flames as your friend awkwardly waits.

You teach the crow to speak in her voice. You train it to say it will stay forever. But the first time you take it out of the house it flies over the stone wall. Just like the others. You can hear them there talking to each other about how easy it is to get away from you.

You wake up to find your phone melted on your bedside table. Like a bar of chocolate left out in the sun, your fingers sink into it. You pull away and find it is stuck to your hand, crawling up your arm. The black goo flickers and words appear on your forearm: "Update Complete".

"You should talk more," she says. I smile shyly and open my mouth to respond but all that comes out is a flood of bats. An endless shrieking river of terrified creatures billowing skyward, blacking out the moon and the twilight sky like the fingers of an ink-covered hand.

"Computer, give me the aesthetics of books, without the burden of knowledge."

Relationships are fickle. Every night they come apart and drift about like strings in the breeze, disconnecting from one person and reattaching to someone else. We wake up unaware that the neighbor we now hate used to be a lover, our children now distant used to be friends.

You wake up from a restless night unaware that at 3:46am the blood in your veins stopped moving and nine seconds later it started again in the opposite direction. Now everything you feel is reversed. Joy is now repulsive. What once was unthinkable is now your greatest desire.