the scissor is on your
nape. think away the thought, please
water. there's a drop stroking over the rim that is your forehead. down, down. a
tear. slips down. a tear of
blood. down more. it edges toward your jaw, neck, throat, into a
vein. crawling, descending. throughout your self and your legs,
crisscrossing. spiderveins. open into
roots, white fading to spruce. your feet are gone and you are a
tree. millions more of you but look up to your leaves, flickering green to the sunlight like
a school of fish. silver in the surrounding black. a cold, encompassing, holding, embracing
ocean. you are the water once more. only this time you meet the sky, through a gate called
horizon. endless. infinite. edging, but it only follows you and you it.
are you one with the world? if not, be the world.
you are a world.
they make you sleepy, except for when the part at the back of your neck is getting cut down to less than an inch.
i thought of this while i was getting one and tried my best to write what i remembered after i got home