blood is thrumming in these veins:
to the beat of the sun’s breaths,
to the pulse of echoed birdcall,
to the rhythm of screaming life.
this heartbeat is dripping lava beneath the earth;
these eyes are morning mist draping pines;
these bones are hollow like the first snow;
these fingers are peaks brushing icy clouds;
in the right is held an ocean; the left, the desert sands;
and every inhalation mirrors another’s death.
try and tell me you are indestructible.
try and tell me you are paramount.
try and tell me you are not of the earth –
i dare you.
(these tides will rip you apart.)
Apr 5, 2015
Apr 5, 2015 at 1:56 PM UTC
blood is thrumming in these veins:
to the beat of the sun’s breaths,
to the pulse of echoed birdcall,
to the rhythm of screaming life.
this heartbeat is dripping lava beneath the earth;
these eyes are morning mist draping pines;
these bones are hollow like the first snow;
these fingers are peaks brushing icy clouds;
in the right is held an ocean; the left, the desert sands;
and every inhalation mirrors another’s death.
try and tell me you are indestructible.
try and tell me you are paramount.
try and tell me you are not of the earth –
i dare you.
(these tides will rip you apart.)
