rising from the bottom of this sea
is the bubble of my next breath
contorting itself into smaller beads
of possibilities,
rising to meet the plane of release
beyond the glimmering surface.
in angelic exodus, blood leaks
from my heart to fill
the lonely corridors
of this vessel. 

my thoughts stir like static,
white noise channeling the great beyond,
with no form to settle into.
the mirrors lie.
no hominid can contain this.
there is much more behind my eyes
than there is
in front of them.