toskataxia

obscured by pollution

nod to mirage

ink drinking to fly

ill in delusion

when water taken in carries the flow of symmetry to the nature of growth and disappears within the paradox of giving all that we have till we're broke and living in the shadow cast by an emptiness that expands each time we slam our heads against the ground like this to convince ourselves we exist

we're not mad

just thirsty and divining

breaking skin to let in the light that gives ocean life and bodies the peace they're trying to find and begging through disease

to be free

until what's left is balance and breath

an image burned into snow

one arm curled

the other stretched

on thin ice

into thin air

whispers left of finger tips

tug bell lines to her ear

to let her know we're still alive

but nothing's changed the greater cold inside so she will never visit us here

perceiving what can not be felt

and holding that which is unseen

in basements and attics

of faith and doubt

as within

so without