The ***** of descent braces none for the fall, the tumbling Westward to nothing at all but sand and ocean.
Where water touches so slightly the soul, as embracing depths carve out for the old sense of safety.

Violent and broken passage to the end, I call for the courage to begin again between the heartbeats.

Palpitations. Asphyxiation. Displacement in time as I throttle.
Condemnation. Conviction. Redemption lives upon two shoulders only when one

Comes together.