You close your eyes and think particles are blind, you shut your mouth and act deaf. You exist; you are in a room that is. There is a universe in your mind. There is a supernova on your neck. Necked from the Big Bang. There is a black hole in your lisp. In your speech, space fulminates. In your spine, mortals live and mortals die. Stars illuminate inside your chest.
Manumitted by a first breath, life injected in the cells; behold lessening the jolts. Behold learning the crypts.
You swim. You land. You eject a second breath. Tattooing fingerprints on your children's foreheads. And then you walk, carving footprints on the seabed for meteorites to trace.
We found hearts in a cleft. The clefts made a stream. The streams we wrecked, until our shadows became streaks. Conversed by smiles that spoke of engravers. We felt what no other creature could feel; tribe is safety, hunt is stability, loss is thirst. Home is circular and beasts are slaves.
We fought over land and game but still you remained under my skin —in the bones: free radical, wild and intangible, unrooted and disputant. I hinged on the mountains and you left like a fortune teller with not much for a luck. Floating on self-destruct. Traded your crystal ball with the globe, books with papercuts, lovers with stains. Loaded your pen-pencil with leads, and wrote me mechanical.
My people wandered Earth for water, and gulped down the seaside. My people are seasick. My people, their knees bleed on the plants lurking in the sunrise. My people, they shred the lands, wondering whose good is better. But only you know that insistence is good enough and resistance can keep you alive.
The world is our playground: valleys are slides when destruction is erupted. A tide is grace if you keep from drowning. Glazed eyes fool what the mind can already feel.
