binding ropes, pointed sheets
and careful skies- i have all the oceans,
new days, richest nights and brightest
when i have the feeling
of the roughest rocks
under the soles of my feet-
the wood and splinters in my toes,
the cold metal to my arms,
the most frozen of fingers
pressed to my back.
arms are poison when they're numb;
ever is different when you can feel.
leaning, i have the air against my skin,
the deepest of skies breathing down my neck,
the poison of cradling eyes.
maybe being human is knowing how to feel alive;
maybe being human is knowing when to be alive.
black and white, knight eyes, shivers
seeking home in my skin-
breathing, i have everything-
even with the trains crashing
in my chest, black seeking
the corners of my eyes
and a slow, dancing conscious,
like magic, we don't only have tomorrow -
we seek tomorrow.