ages past
these last few months
watching the imaginary rain fall on the windows
of this small glass heart
really, asking the wind
what is the world like now
since i have been absent these days
inhaling the smoke of my unsacred self sacrifice
dancing intoxicated by belief
in a thousand impossible things
one such as this has never believed in before
wincing at wounds
open to new horizons
seemingly stretched by the orange of the dusk sky
silent
what is this seen
come flailing up from deep blue bottom
too alive to scream
one glimpse of beauty
forced to breathe my first
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