Raptor Thoughts

Red breasted birds of death come to carry my mind away.

Their shimmering black green wings flow like wind behind my skull.

Death of my walled creatures they bring for me to think of bloodied rain.

Careless tides of mine are past, they now bring ships.

My sails are cast.

I feel like crumpled paper inside.

I feel archaic, I feel archived, I feel written and old.

I want to curl up into crinkled thin parchment and burn up into fine ash.