Warm waters ripple underneath my feet,
Mist softly caresses my surroundings like a fuzzy blanket,
Nothing but a warm wrap on a deathbed.
I'm flying.
The sea beneath my feet freezes as I descend upon it.
A catwalk to my judging headsman.
I refuse to walk.
I fly.
Without destination.
Without meaning.
Until you touched my hand and I turned around.

I used to have a puppy,
I rang a bell once before I fed him, every day,
I knew he loved me even if he bit me every night,
Until I couldn't raise him any longer.
The puppy grew larger and larger and ate more.
More.
I rang the bell two times.
More. More.
Three times.
More. More. More.
I never rang the bell again.
I lost everything and couldn't afford any more food.
Then one night I abandoned him.

Years later he came back home.
A bony old stray dog.
He looked at me with puppy eyes and I,
I couldn't resist and fed him once more.
Just one time before sending him out into the cold again.
I held out my hand and he bit off my fingers.
A starving animal will always feed.
And I had nothing.
He ate parts of me.

I didn't let him leave.
I cut the dog apart.
And ate him.


I felt alive.