salve, my ache, the one stuck
in something so fake as a body.
So many ways to chase the absences
of pain, we choose the ones that
don't make us sick
of the wave after wave.
(stuck in a thought)
I'm sure there's somewhere
(stuck in a dither)
better than this place, somewhere
once covered in tiny, atomic
flames.
This is what I chase.
Wonder what ways
we are all slipping in
and out of it, hoping each
time we can stay.
In the twitches of sleep, we come close,
creating unthinkable space
within a very small head. I don't
mind leaving
most days.
Helps to know the
least, that every single night
we do, after all, transcend the
body.
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