An explosion of motion

It is morning

The day lies open

Water runs between my claws

I pretend I am the permeable colors of glacial melt

Where I am distinctly heedful. No eyes. No hands 



I want to be invisible;

the lazy colors of gold and blue;
unable to recall any identity or reality

I can’t say why. Invisible hurts. Maybe its easier to feel the hurt of invisible but know that the struggle of existence will never be in me



I’m sick at the prospect of a cage but it’s easier than freedom

So I quietly dismantle myself during your sleep. I wait in my constraints for the machinery in your mouth to turn

That sound is my cue. The only evidence I know



Maybe I’d be good for a living hell; tied to the incessant bluster of gods with animals heads, munching holes in each others pale golden horns
But the war is at a pause for now. The cavalcade is sitting down


Is it still morning?

I sleep to shelter my head. But good sleep never really comes



The drop line reaches down my throat and hoists a voice

How condemned I feel

Condemned to action and reaction, burdened with contempt, choked by doubt, commanded to love

How can I be, if I cannot know what I am?

Why can’t I be invisible?

Some enchanted morning senility will be upon me. And when my body begins to cool, let it be