A pack of golden beatles fluttered by to steal my eyes from my face, and yet, I remained unstirred.
I don’t think, I don't care, I don’t pretend not to stare.
I burn those holes right where the sands meet and mend, and make such a wonderful paste.
I wonder, about the empty crevices within me. Am I whole? Do I desire to? Does desire make me unwhole?
I wish to slither myself into comfort and warmth, and to perish next to it. I want to ***** a home close to the hearth, where the vein that carries flames flows the brightest and warmest.
Will I know warmth, if I’ve never met cold? Will I forever be empty, like a hidden compartment in an overly complex device?
My legs, my arms, my fingers, my toes. My eyes, my nose, my ears, my tongue. A heart that beats even when I don’t exist. I wonder, if my heart thought, if it would stop beating when I felt the numbness of not knowing what cold and heat are?
A bucket of snow full of white hot pebbles slammed against the walls of my head. I wanna kick whoever has the audacity, but when I turn not even a shadow remains.
I feel, I will swallow this sand that tethers me whole. Limitations slurred through misspoken words of a long forgotten tongue will never meet the ears of a creature living inside of a tower tall enough to pierce the sky through.
In the dark, in the light, in the burning fire, and the miserable snow. Will I ever know my worth? To myself, at least?
Two eyes, glinting underneath the thick shadows that the tall tower casts. All I wanna do is gouge them out.