I feel breathless at any speck of thought —an idea— crossing my mind. I am restlessly wishing for something, prying for crumbs, and my mind is slowly sinking. Breathing words for oxygen, concepts for nutrients. I am a starving girl in a desert of words.

There is an elegance
in contemplating the moon
as your surroundings turn pitch
black.

A nostalgic glare
of two empty beings
340 400 kilometers away.

How Icarus laughed in amazement
even when the end was coming.

That is life.

A Constant Freefall

There is a certain gracefulness
in falling to your doom.
As all the broken things surround you,
as all the lost things keep you
from the dark.

And there
in the Dark,
is a place
where shadows call home.

That consuming burn
in the middle of your heart,
constantly reminding you
of a mortal life
that was once so distant
but equally clear.

Works as gasoline
for all human beings
and it's called LOVE.