I wish I were a paper plane;
that I had a sky
in which to roam.

The cavity blooms
from the bones.
Twigs and bones,
hollowed out by parasites.

I am the numbness
Of the rotting earth;
The molten sky of an
All-consuming hell.

You're the bones of my earth,
but there's always something
hollow under this ground. Some
empty coffin, full of air that was
a man, a boy; a monster. He was
full of the air of my world. He
wretched it from his lungs;
wretched it from my lungs.

You might as well bleach the salt from your skin.
It will still taste of ashes.

You're closer, almost
in reach of my senses. Your
familiar sting on my skin,
that touch I could never quite
trust. Don't let me breathe
you in.

I love you sometimes,
when we're kids again.