Scorched earth, limp talons
draw constellations
in the dark dark dirt.

The deep welcomes
this offering, gratefully
sinking down, down, down.

Vibrations be ******
I am not a slave
to your words today.

Repent! Or so you may be
lead to believe. Brittlebones,
you have done nothing wrong.

Seaweed caressing torso and legs,
the body is present, cradling
an entire universe in its arms.

Nineteen years of compartments,
I am made of boxes.
Each more intricate than the last.

Budding wings are emerging
from my shoulder
blades. I feel nothing, yet.

Higher! Up, up,
altitude claims breath.
You remember drowning.