Sinking

When you are near, felt-tipped hammers against metal strings reverberate in the hollow of my chest, metronome precision. I do not know you, or your thoughts, collected and bound in delicate antique linens, neatly wrapped and buried. My thoughts flow in a crescendo of invisible noise, swift and choppy.

Sink under despair into ecstacy

I hold my breath, looking up at the movement of water vapor streaming with passing birds across the sky. My eyes go under last, your voice is drowned out by the bass drum of heartbeats. From above, birds look down at sinking reflections

Who will lend a hand?


"Reach for your goals as if the ground behind you is sinking"


-Sole-Phresh Society-