but when I feel that steel, there follows the Lull of [d]Eat[h]. the Lull to drink Your pond until I no longer swallow for the swallows fly down and find my body to drift me upwards, drift my body on a piece of a driftwood where all the peace the World knows climbs onto and into me -- a mortifying echo of a hurt little angel -- time to move on, time to move on -- time to prepare and less grief -- I'll walk towards the coast of Your pond, tiptoe towards it, ponder how my body twitches and twittles when my insides are fully submerged -- swallow me whole. Swallow me, Hole.