by Martin Ott
The Destroyer’s Vertigo Has Its Own Dizzying Rules
The Destroyer trusts machines more than himself; the planes, elevators, and penthouse suites leave him with no trepidation he will fall.
The Destroyer loses his sense one rung up a ladder or on a hiking trail, the possibility of a misstep enough for the world to spin.
The Destroyer blames his mother or father, at times, for his inability to believe that the earth will not shift and swallow him whole.
The Destroyer used to compare falling in love with taking a leap over a ridge with no way to know what will greet two tumbling bodies.
The Destroyer’s panic attacks during his divorce were indistinguishable from the time he slipped down the stairs on Christmas morning as a boy and he could barely breathe.