inside my chest is a war. a battle with 8 sides all sharp and bleeding.
when I came around like words on the paper, it was without a sound
I came down. misunderstanding your intentions and falling; I've
said it before, what the sky birds told me "you have all the magic
and you're sure to waste it." and even when I got close! and my fingers
were brushing up agents it wondering about history and gravity
even then I felt short. too far from the light and the edge where
everybody goes to fall. but even if I wasn't standing there you would have
still been close, around my red desert sand that I know so well, while you are
barefoot and staggering, repeating words you read in a book that meant
nothing to you. which I only know because I can see the stale tone of books
on your breath. because that's when it happens, I come around you say
something like "I've been…allright." with unspelled syllables rampant and
afraid. I hadn't come this close in a very long time, the piece I'm used to
using are too old now.