As the asphalt started breaking up stochastically, 
I watched the sun rays glisten up the water that lay
in front of me, but wasn’t quite there; much like the
hummingbirds which flew over to the horizon and
the breeze of the sandy beach I had built castles on
when I was three, forming a world of their own and 
keeping the dead too close to reality, I wondered if
I believed in heaven and hell for I was jumping into
the hollow bottom of the sea, and if I were to wash 
over to the shore I wondered if I’d want to be found;
disappearance was too wondrous an expedition I 
deceived myself with, and I wondered if I wanted 
the ones to come to remember my deception or if
it was what I couldn’t deceive which I wanted to wash
over to the shore. I couldn’t tell you, now, could I? 
For I’m not falling with speed, I’m falling in a slow, 
cracked up motion, and the asphalt cracks deeper
at one edge and it could always just fall apart. My
hallucinations are alive, and I can feel them grow 
between the spaces of time and the tumour grows
without letting go- I am glad of it. I am not healing,
but I have my disease to grow me apart and never leave.


2 thoughts on “Unvarying

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