breath in that air which,
beneath it’s sandpaper package,
fills your body with warm fumes
(which mean something).
Close your eyes and hold that image,
capture and engrave those blues in the shadow
into the folds of your soul
(no pixels needed).

stop.

in the name of filling the loose
rice paper skin of your existence,
forget the scars as well as the telescope
and savor the feeling in between the ticks of time.