Shape

X tells me that even when he loses control, he can at least control his awareness of his lack of control. He can stand fast, he says, pluck words out of the maelstrom that passes over and through him. He can observe himself stutter and hesitate, pronounce and proclaim. He can even command me into some sort of shape. But as soon as he’s done this he has to panic away, he says, from the echo of his own speech and what might respond.